


The Lies We Tell

by wicked3659



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Character Death, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, He comes back though, Human Trafficking, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Long, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Sexual Content, Not Really Character Death, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Swearing, Undercover, Violence, flustered fraser, ghost dad advice, slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 53,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: A body dumped in the park leads Ray and Fraser into a case that has far more reaching consequences than either of them could have possibly anticipated. It forces them to reevaluate their friendship, their partnership, and face those feelings they've been keeping secret for reasons that don't really need explaining at this juncture.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26
Collections: due South/C6D Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is long, I'm sorry. I hope it's enjoyable.  
> There are mentions of human trafficking and inferred rape but nothing explicit.  
> =  
> A huge thank you to [spacetimeconundrum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceTimeConundrum)  
> who has been an amazing beta and has gone through the entire story with a fine-tooth comb dealing with my abuses of commas and pov switching and helped me with medical and police procedures and locations in the US. Absolutely gem of a human and helped me get this story finished and coherent.  
> Any mistakes remaining are my own.
> 
> Set right before CotW.  
> References to Episodes: Mountie on the Bountie S03E12-13 and Seeing is Believing S03E05
> 
> It's a slow burn this one guys, eventual romance though?
> 
> Go check out the cute arts by [lookturtles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookturtles)  
> [archiveofourown.org/collections/ds_c6d_bigbang_2020/works/26761504](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ds_c6d_bigbang_2020/works/26761504)

I've begun to realize

That whenever I am with you

You deliver me from the pain in my life

Easy now to recognize

All the misery I have been through

It was beating me to submission

'Til the day you arrived

****

The dark sky lit up with several flashes of lightning and a low rumbling of thunder rolled through the city of Chicago. Torrential rain covered every surface, loud and unrelenting as it fell in sheets, wind blowing it cruelly into the faces of early morning commuters. It was dawn and the black storm clouds had begun to break apart, the storm abating finally after several hours. Shafts of the rising sun pierced through the blanket of cloud, slowly chasing away the darkness. 

Under the cover of trees, where the light had not yet reached, a ghostly white figure stumbled and fell to the damp ground, unseen. 

A short distance away a battered blue van screeched as it pulled out into the easy morning traffic and accelerated urgently away from the park, witnessed only by a bagel vendor setting up her stall for the breakfast rush. Glancing up at the sound of squealing tires and the splashing of water onto her cart as the blue van whizzed past, she tutted and muttered something rude about the lack of consideration in people these days. 

The last of the rain dripped onto the leaves of the trees with a soft pitter-patter and dampened the sheer cloth covering the skeletal frame of the park's lone visitor. Pausing on their knees, they made a desperate attempt to stand yet slipped once more, falling face-first into the grass without so much as a whimper. 

By the time warm rays of sunlight breached the tree canopy of that small city park, the figure lay deathly still while birds broke out into morning chorus above, welcoming the new day.

****

**Discovery**

The city positively glistened in the early morning sun as Constable Benton Fraser jogged through the quiet streets, not yet filled with bustling commuters. Clad in his RCMP standard sweats, he pounded the pavement, enjoying the crisp air in his lungs and growing warmth of sunlight on his face. Turning towards the park on his regular route, he gave a wave to the bagel vendor who greeted him cheerily and only paused to thank her kindly as she gave Diefenbaker a fresh bagel. 

Giving his half wolf half dog a reproachful shake of his head, muttering about how spoiled he was, Fraser continued on his run with Diefenbaker hot on his heels. The wolf could easily outrun the man but always stayed at his heels for these morning runs, excitedly accepting any and all gifts from the various street vendors along their way. Coming to his halfway point, Fraser stopped and gave Diefenbaker a look as he caught his breath. "You keep eating junk food and you're going to get fat." 

Diefenbaker merely cocked his head and sat, gobbling up the remains of a pretzel. 

"Hopeless," Fraser turned to double back around the park with a roll of his eyes. He had barely picked up his pace when a shrill scream pierced the air. Stopping in his tracks, he canted his head towards the sound and broke into a sprint across the park. 

Bounding over the grass, Fraser ducked through low hanging branches and leapt over bushes, uncaring that the wet grass was now soaking his running shoes and the cuffs of his sweatpants. Reaching the distressed jogger and small but growing crowd, he immediately crouched down by the prone form and began checking for a pulse, gently turning them over. "Call 911!" He barked out. His gaze fixed on the young man's face as his eyes fluttered open and stared wildly up at him. Wiping grass and leaves from his pale gaunt face, Fraser leant over him as the man tried to speak. 

"They can't hurt me...I'm free now…" the young man breathed, his mouth falling open as his eyes rolled back into his skull. 

"Help is on the way, son, hang on," Fraser tried to reassure, cupping his face urgently when the man went still. He put his ear to the man's mouth and upon finding him no longer breathing, he immediately began CPR. 

****

Ray Kowalski yawned and flicked his blue sunglasses down over his glasses as he sipped his coffee, stumbling slightly on the wet grass in his distraction of being blinded by the morning sun. Squinting at the chaotic scene in the park, he gave a brief nod to a uniformed officer who pointed him in the direction of his partner. 

Since taking the undercover job as Detective Raymond Vecchio, Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski had learned three things; one: the Mountie was quite likely certifiable, two: he'd never had a better friend nor partner and three: nothing rattled Fraser, not really, not that he'd witnessed anyway. Then again he hadn't been around for that whole Metcalf incident. He'd only mentioned it that one time and it had had Fraser locking down and falling silent so fast Ray had gotten whiplash. He had changed the subject quickly and hadn't spoken of it since. 

Fraser was perched against the hood of a police cruiser, his arms folded, the sleeves of his navy RCMP issue sweater rolled up to his elbows, his faraway gaze seemingly unaffected by the chaos around him. Diefenbaker was sat by his leg and Ray knew that if the wolf was sticking close by then the incident had to have rattled his friend and that concerned him. 

"Your partner was one of the ones who found him," the officer stated simply. 

“Any other witnesses?” 

“Just those who stumbled on his body. We’re taking statements now. Nobody saw anything suspicious. Based on his clothes though it looks like he escaped from a hospital or something. Could have been a whack job off his meds.”

Ray nodded his eyes lingering on his partner as the officer talked. Finding a dead body first thing in the morning was not on anybody's to do list, no wonder Fraser looked shaken. It was one thing finding them on the job but not when you were just minding your own business. He pursed his lips and swallowed another mouthful of coffee. It was yet another thing that likely made the city less appealing for the Mountie. Probably didn't get to trip over dead bodies in a park all that often in Canada. Thinking about shit like this driving Fraser out of Chicago and going home, had Ray's chest tightening. 

Scowling, he pushed the thought aside, his own selfish wishful thinking wasn't important right now. Ray had to try and get Fraser out of his own head before he let this eat at him as he so often did over situations he couldn't possibly control and yet tried to anyway in that stubborn Mountie way of his. He wondered absently if it were a Canadian trait or just a Mountie one, although eventually concluded it was likely just Fraser being Fraser. 

“Thanks, put the statements on my desk when you’re done.” 

“Yes, Sir.”

Ray left the officer and headed over to his partner, "Mornin' Fraser, you are one hell of a trouble magnet, buddy." 

"I can assure you that it is not intentional, Ray," Fraser replied, his eyes flicking down briefly. "I hadn't realised they'd called you." He added glancing up at his partner. 

"Body dumped in the park, ticks all those suspicious circumstance boxes, and I was in the area," he shrugged and didn't mention that Welsh had called him and told him that Fraser was somehow involved with a suspected homicide. Not that Ray had even remotely thought the worst but he couldn't say he was all that surprised. Actual dirt might not stick to his partner but he definitely attracted attention, of all kinds whether he wanted to or not. “Give me a minute, yeah?” 

Ray patted Fraser’s shoulder and headed to the crime scene. “What do we got?” he asked the medical examiner who was crouched beside the victim. 

The woman glanced up and got to her feet. “Died on the scene before the paramedics got here. Constable Fraser got them to call me, made sure nobody disturbed the scene.” 

“Cause of death?” 

“Too early to tell. There are some injuries on the body, no blood at the scene although with all the rain this morning there’s no way to be sure there wasn’t any blood. There’s nothing that would indicate death by blunt force trauma,” she sighed. “Could be drugs, at this stage, could be anything. I’ll have him taken to Mort for a full autopsy. Sorry I don’t have more for you, Detective.” She gestured for the waiting paramedics to take the body. 

“He looks young,” Ray commented somberly. 

“Can’t be more than twenty,” she replied sadly. “It’s a damn shame.” 

“Thanks,” Ray looked over the scene a while longer watching the forensics team do their work, then went back to check on Fraser.

"He was alive, Ray," Fraser stated quietly, glancing up at his partner when Ray stopped in front of him, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "I tried to save him," he shook his head and looked away with a frown. 

"Shit, Frase, I didn't know." Ray rubbed the back of his neck, peering over his glasses at his friend. Having someone die on you was never easy. He noted the faint crease between his brows and the distracted rub of his eyebrow with his thumb. "Cases like these though, they're usually open and shut, there wasn't anything more you could do. No point beating yourself up over it you know? You didn't kill the guy." 

Fraser's frown deepened as he met Ray's concerned gaze, "You don't suspect foul play then?"

"Oh totally, everything about this stinks of foul play," he clarified with an animated wave of his hand. "But this is Chicago, Fraser, foul play is anything from a poor kid OD'ing in a park to mob-related gang warfare." He sighed and shifted to perch beside his friend on the hood of the cruiser, his eyes looking ahead at the scene. "With a death like this, nobody will have seen or heard squat. Trail goes cold on John Doe and life goes on. It sucks but I've seen cases like this before."

"You have?"

"Yeah, Frase you do this job long enough in a city like this you see all sorts, not much can surprise you after a while, you sort of get numb to it. Or go insane," at Fraser's resounding silence, Ray knew instantly the Mountie did not approve. Fraser didn't know the city like he did. 

“ME can’t give a cause of death yet, the fact he was alive when you found him means he was probably dropped here. No evidence he was beat up, no blood at the scene. Could be drugs, could be a mental health patient, as it stands we’ve got nothing to go on, I’m sorry, Fraser.” Dropping his head in defeat, he put a hand on Fraser's upper back in sympathy and gave an ever so slight squeeze of the tight muscles above his shoulder blades. The guy was tense, what else was new. "C'mon, let me give you a ride, you need to change right?" he asked, trying to shake Fraser out of his consternation. 

"I, yes, thank you kindly, Ray, that would be appreciated." 

Ray didn't think twice about resting his hand on Fraser's shoulders in a gesture of comfort on the way back to his GTO. Even if Fraser didn't accept Ray’s assessment of the situation - which Ray could tell by the hard set of his jaw and his quiet contemplation, he most certainly did not and was not going to let this go - it was still a shitty way to spend your morning. 

****

Twenty minutes later, Ray waited outside the Canadian consulate, idly drumming his steering wheel along to the radio. He'd told Fraser that he would have to come make an official statement as part of the investigation and warned him repeatedly about not getting his hopes up for finding any leads. It was hopeless, Ray had recognised the look on his friend's face, he was not going to let it go. It was almost as though he took it personally, though Ray knew him better than that. It was the injustice of it that Fraser took personally. 

He looked up as he caught movement at the door of the consulate and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of his partner. He was wearing his brown uniform today, not that it made a difference to Ray, the man looked incredible no matter which uniform he had on. Ray had privately likened him to a model when he had first clapped eyes on him in that overly bright red serge and had wisely kept those thoughts to himself. His silence did not, however, prevent him from watching Fraser round the front of his car to get into the passenger seat, where his position just so happened to give him a direct line of sight to Fraser's ass. His eyes were fixed on the road by the time Diefenbaker and Mountie were settled in their seats. Being attracted to your obscenely good looking Mountie partner was one thing, being caught ogling was another and Ray was too good to get caught. 

"Let's get at em," he said, putting the GTO into gear. "ME sent the body to the morgue. I called Mort, he said we can go down when he’s doing the autopsy, said he'll hang on for us."

"Prudent, thank you, Ray."

Ray stole a glance at Fraser, he was in full Mountie mode, mask up, straight back, tense shoulders, his jaw clenching slightly. "You ok?"

"Yes, Ray."

"You're a bad liar," Ray replied instantly, fiddling with the toothpick in between his teeth.

"I don't lie, Ray."

"Think you'll find you just did, Fraser buddy."

"It wasn't a lie, it was a dissimulation."

"Is that Canadian for lie?" Ray couldn't help the slight grin tugging at his lips. 

"Dissembling."

"Lying?"

"Pretence."

"Lie." Ray held firm, Fraser was stubborn but if the man had learned anything about him it was that he could be just as stubborn. He knew he'd won when he heard the soft sigh and the hint of amusement in his tone.

"...A lie."

"Thank you, Fraser."

"Albeit a small one," Fraser continued somewhat insistently, his tone lighter than earlier in the morning. Ray did seem to have that effect on him, regardless of what he was actually feeling at the time.

Ray smirked, "I figured if you told a big lie you'd combine or something."

"Do you mean combust, Ray?" 

"Yeah, yeah combust, it's what I said."

"Right you are."

Ray snorted in amusement at Fraser's deadpan and pulled into the parking lot of the 2-7. Their banter was one of the highlights of any given day, Fraser's humour while dry and quirky was usually hidden to most. It pleased Ray enormously that he got to witness it. He changed tact when he saw Fraser frowning again. "Anybody would be shook up, Frase, don't feel like you got to pretend it ain't nothing." 

Fraser nodded and fiddled with his Stetson, "Thank you, Ray, it has left me rather unsettled."

"We'll get to the bottom of it," he assured, meeting Fraser's surprised gaze when the man looked up at him. 

"I thought you said--"

"--I know what I said," Ray interrupted. He parked the car and turned to Fraser, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to try, alright?" 

Fraser regarded him for a long few seconds and gave a quick nod, a small subtle smile playing across his lips. "Alright, thank you, Ray." 

"Don't thank me for doing my job, Frase," Ray rolled out of the car and headed inside, Diefenbaker trotting ahead of them as Fraser fell easily into step beside him, their shoulders brushing. Ray wondered when the concept of personal space between them had become so alien. 

"Vecchio, Constable!" Welsh barked out across the bullpen the moment they arrived and gestured for them to join him in his office. 

Sharing a quick glance the two men weaved their way through the bustling station and closed the door behind them. 

"There's been a development," Welsh started as he sat down. "Constable, how are you feeling?" 

"Quite alright, Lieutenant, I have overcome my initial shock at the situation and I am keen to be involved in the investigation."

"Glad to hear it, I have a feeling your services will be needed."

Ray gave a shrug when Welsh looked in his direction, he knew how the Mountie got, he was like a dog with a bone, relentless. "Development Sir?" 

"This body in the park rang a few bells so I gave a call to our friends at the 1-8 and the 22. This is not the only body dump in Chicago recently," he picked up a pile of files and dropped them on his desk with a thunk. 

"That many, Lieutenant?" Fraser commented in surprise. 

"No MO, no evidence, no leads, all of them dumped in parks overnight, found in the morning. Nobody saw anything, knows anything, dead ends."

"How do we know they're connected?" Ray asked, thumbing through the first file. 

"We don't, that's your job. These are from all over Chicago over the last two months."

"Two months?" Ray and Fraser uttered together incredulously. 

"Exactly. That's a lot of bodies and they're coming from somewhere. Somebody knows something. Find a connection."

"You think they are related Sir?" Fraser asked with a slight frown. 

"Either they are and we're dealing with some whacko serial killer or we got a bigger problem on our hands, one that's spitting out bodies on my turf," Welsh explained grimly. "This is your top priority. Mort has rearranged his schedule and is ready to do the autopsy, I want you down there."

Ray shifted uncomfortably and let out an unhappy noise. "Sir, Fraser is much better at all that… dead body stuff, I can just get started on these files," he squirmed as the Lieutenant pinned him with an unflinching gaze. 

"Did I happen to stutter, Detective?" 

"I ah no, Sir, the morgue, on my way," Ray let himself physically shudder as he left the office, Fraser opening the door for him. 

Once again bemused by his partner's strong negative reaction to having to go to the morgue, Fraser picked up the stack of files and followed Ray to his desk, "You know, Ray, have you considered that your strong visceral reaction stems from an unconscious denial of your own mortality and inability to accept death as part of the circle of--"

"--Fraser."

"Yes, Ray?"

"If you say one more word about the circle of life, I will kick you in the head."

"Understood."

Ray dumped the files and pushed Fraser ahead of him as they headed for the morgue. "I am very aware of death being a part of life, I'm a cop, doesn't stop it from being any less gross and me any less weirded out by freaky human popsicles. I don't like it, you and all your mumbo jumbo can't make me like it."

"Well no," Fraser graciously conceded, allowing Ray to push him ahead, his hands on his shoulders as they approached the morgue. "I just think that if you approached it with certain objectivity and looked at why you are unnerved by corpses you may feel differently in their presence." 

"Feel differently in their presence," Ray scoffed. "I don't want to get comfortable with dead people, Fraser." 

"It would make the process much easier for you, I'm simply trying to help you understand the root of your fear," Fraser continued, entering the autopsy room with Ray hiding his head behind his back, pressing up close and making gagging sounds against his uniform.

"Not afraid, gugh, it's just gross Fraser!" Ray dry heaved and gripped Fraser's strong shoulders as he peered over him at Mort and the body.

"Ah Constable, Detective, glad you could join us," Mort greeted them cheerfully, he held up his scalpel which glinted under the light. "Shall we?"

"Guh," Ray pressed his forehead into Fraser's shoulder as Mort began his incision, "I think I'm going to be sick." 

Fraser turned his head slightly and murmured into Ray's ear, "I would really rather you didn't, Ray, the dry cleaning costs are fairly exorbitant for wool. Breathe through your mouth, that should help quell your nausea."

"You breathe through your mouth," Ray grumbled petulantly, focusing instead on the tingles rippling through his body at Fraser's voice so close to his ear. 

"Well I am, Ray, the smell can be quite potent otherwise."

"Not helping," Ray dry-heaved again as he peeked once more over the brown uniform that he was clinging onto. He tried instead to breathe in the scent of Fraser and his uniform, wool, polish and soap. Damn, even a morgue didn't stop Fraser from smelling good. 

"Sorry Ray," Fraser was murmuring as he observed Mort's investigation of the body. "I think your suffering will not be in vain, however," he added.

"You mocking me, Fraser?"

"Hardly Ray, there's bruising on the body, old wounds and internal injuries that have been treated previously," he explained. 

"So he was kept somewhere for a while?"

"Yes," Fraser replied somberly, "Apparently a long while and treated for his injuries which demonstrates a certain level of care for the man."

"Property ain't worth much if it's damaged, Frase," Ray added darkly.

"Indeed."

The two officers looked at Mort as he examined the liver and stomach. "Some of these injuries are at least a month old," he explained. "There are also bruises on his ankles."

"From restraints?" Ray asked, forcing himself to look and gripping Fraser's shoulders more tightly as he did so.

Ray, although focused on the autopsy findings, couldn't help but feel a certain warmth from the physical closeness of Fraser. Even if he was simply using him as a shield at that moment to protect him from the horrors he expected from the morgue was neither here nor there. To be in such close proximity to him, his body pressed against his back, his head just a hair's breadth from his own, sent his mind to inappropriate places, which he quickly mentally shook himself out of and forced himself to focus more intently on the body. 

"It would appear so," Mort was explaining. "Restraints on the wrists too," the medical examiner moved around the body and hummed deeply when his back was to them. "It appears they have been sexually assaulted."

"That's disgusting," Ray growled out. 

"Ray, we don't need to stay for this. We have enough preliminary information to go on," Fraser pointed out mildly. "Mort, did you scrape under the fingernails?" 

"Of course, my boy, what do you take me for?" The older man grinned, his eyes twinkling. He pointed over to the counter. 

Fraser moved suddenly to examine the clear packet of evidence, sniffing its contents, detecting a deeply metallic aroma, leaving Ray standing rooted to the spot, his eyes widening at the sight of Mort wrist deep inside the body. 

Hearing a choking sound, Fraser turned and noted that his partner had turned a definite shade of green. "Oh, dear." He was by Ray's side in an instant, catching the man's arm and putting his other arm around his waist, preventing him from keeling over. 

"Frase.."

"It's alright, Ray we're leaving."

"You'll have my report in a few hours," Mort waved at them with a smile as the Mountie half steered, half lifted the detective out of the morgue. 

"Thank you kindly, Mort," Fraser called out over his shoulder as the door swung closed. Carefully he deposited Ray on a chair and sat beside him, a hand on his back as he doubled over and groaned. 

"That was… ugh stuff of nightmares," Ray managed to utter thickly, his head between his knees. 

"You know it reminds me of an Inuit story about a man who could--"

"--Fraser, is this an anecdote about dead people or death?"

"Why yes, Ray. In fact--"

"--Fraser."

"Yes, Ray?"

"Shut up."

"Right you are."

****

The park was much busier when Ray and Fraser arrived back at the crime scene. "Fraser, why are we here? We got crime scene guys all over this." 

"There was a distinctive metallic substance underneath the victim's fingernails, that is unlikely to have come from the park. It stands to reason it's from wherever they were being held, so our best course of action is to attempt to retrace their journey from the park to wherever they were brought from," Fraser explained, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape to crouch down where the body was found. "Hmm." 

"Hmm? What's hmm?" Ray stood next to him. "You know I hate it when you do that, talk to me, Frase." 

"The grass is wet."

Ray stared at Fraser, then at the grass, then back at Fraser and blinked just once. "Yeah, it was raining," he replied carefully, regarding Fraser like he was actually going insane. "Remember?"

Fraser straightened and stood up, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as he met Ray's expectant gaze. "The body was dry when I got here." 

Eyes widening with realisation, Ray lifted a finger up, "Meaning the body was dumped--"

"--After the storm," Fraser finished. "Which was around 5:45 this morning."

"How could you possibly know that?" 

"Well, I was awake, Ray," Fraser replied simply, giving his partner a 'how do you think I knew genius,' look, before looking around the park. "It was not long before I went out on my run."

"Oh, sure, that makes sense," Ray gave a shrug, then frowned as he remembered their late-night finishing up his paperwork on their last case. "I knew you got up early but damn," he continued. "Do you actually sleep?" 

"Of course I do, Ray."

"No, I don't mean those weird thirty-second things you bullshit about."

"Microsleep."

"Whatever. Actual, eight-hour rest, you know what I mean." 

"Ray, if a person went without sleep they would first become irritable, clumsy, lose control of their autonomic nervous system progressing into seizures and hallucinatory problems, mania, psychosis and eventually death."

"Huh, guess I would probably pick up on some of that before you keeled over."

"I would hope so, Ray."

Fraser's reply was so close to the edge of disbelieving sarcasm that Ray bit back on his snarky reply. "Well of course I would, Frase you're a freak but I would be able to tell if you started seeing things and going insane."

"He's a sharp one, this Yank." 

"Mhm, is that so?" Fraser replied to them both, avoiding looking at the ghost of his father, invisible to his partner when Ray pinned him with a puzzled stare. 

"What, you don't trust me, your partner, your friend to be able to tell when you're losing your mind now?" 

Fraser absently rubbed his eyebrow with the back of his thumb, picking up on the subtle hurt in Ray's voice. "If there is anyone I trust to notice when I have a hole in my bag of marbles, Ray, it's you."

Robert Fraser's ghost scoffed, "I wouldn't trust anybody with that, Son." 

Ray narrowed his eyes at his partner, "Good because I would notice," he insisted emphatically. 

"He wouldn't if you were already unhinged, Son, let me tell you." 

They had been working through the kinks in their partnership for a while now and things were good, they were communicating. It wasn’t that he doubted Ray. He’d never doubted him but he struggled with trusting. Trusting himself to let someone else get close without it threatening to rend him into pieces. The last time he’d tried to distance himself, to quash his evolving inappropriate feelings for his partner, the rapport between them had broken down. Ray had felt it so strongly, he’d landed a frustrated punch to Fraser’s jaw and Fraser had walked away from him feeling like he’d lost the most important person in his life. He could not go through that again. Fraser scowled and looked across the park towards the street vendors where Dief was milling around. "Perhaps I already am," he snapped out at his father. 

Ray took it in his stride, "Nah, Frase you talk to your wolf way more than is healthy, you lick sidewalks and put god only knows what in your mouth," Ray placed a hand on his shoulder as he followed his gaze across the park.

"I do not lick sidewalks, Ray."

"But that just makes you a freak," Ray finished cheerfully. "Not insane." 

Robert Fraser sidled up to his Son, oblivious to the tension visibly stiffening Benton Fraser's spine, "There was a time when Buck Frobisher thought I was going insane, we were out on the ice fields--"

Fraser closed his eyes, took a breath and counted to three, forcing his voice to remain calm and not to give in to the exasperation his still very dead father managed to elicit in him, "Do you have a point?" 

"Well I'm just sharing, can't an old man share with his son when he's dead?"

"Yeah Fraser, I'm reassuring you, it's what buddies do," Ray answered, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You think those vendors saw something?"

"They very well might have done," Fraser relaxed a fraction when he saw that his father had once again vanished.

"Alright then, let's go ask before Dief eats them out of a business," Ray snickered. "He's a junk food addict, you know that Fraser?"

"I believe he receives much encouragement in that regard," the Mountie threw a sidelong look at his partner who grinned at him and held up his hands in feigned surrender. 

"Hey, I do what I have to do so long as he's not looking at me like he wants to make intimate with my ear again. He's happy, I'm happy, he can eat what he likes," he teased. 

"Rescue your partner from drowning and you pay and pay and pay," Fraser uttered with a shake of his head as he strolled towards the street vendors, Ray following him with a chortle of laughter.

****

"Ah, Mr. Fraser! It's good to see you again this morning," the plump woman waved at them as they approached her cart. "Bagel?" 

"Not for me thank you, Mrs. Nunez," Fraser declined politely with a smile. 

"Ah no thanks," Ray held out a hand. "You two know each other?"

The woman smiled brightly as Dief joined them and jumped up, his tail wagging. "Oh yes, I see Mr. Fraser every morning on his jog and you don't I?" She grinned at the half-wolf now shamelessly begging for a pretzel. "Here you go, you sweet boy," she petted Dief and handed him a bagel. 

"You spoil him, Mrs. Nunez," Fraser looked down at his wolf in admonishment, the wolf simply looked mighty pleased with himself. 

"Nonsense, nonsense he is a good boy, just like you," she patted Fraser's cheek affectionately much to Ray's amusement as he watched his partner flounder a little and blush. "You sure you won't have a bagel?" 

"Quite sure, thank you kindly." 

"We actually wanted to ask you a few questions," Ray interceded, saving his partner from Mrs. Nunez's motherly attention. "You set up here pretty early right?" 

"Yes, yes of course, the morning crowd are my best customers," she replied cheerfully. 

"Did you happen to see anything untoward, perhaps nearer to the park? Shortly after the rain stopped?" Fraser asked.

"Any suspicious behaviour, people lingering that sort of thing?" Ray added. 

Mrs. Nunez thought for a moment and shook her head. "It was quiet, due to the storm you know. People should be more considerate in the rain, my cart was splashed by a very rude person in a blue van. Who needs to drive that fast in the rain anyway?" She grumbled. 

Ray and Fraser shared a look. 

"What did the van look like?" Ray jumped in first. 

"Well it was old, beaten up, they were in a hurry. Splashed all down the front of my cart."

"Which direction were they headed?" Fraser asked with a note of urgency.

"The way they came from of course."

"Yeah, which way was that?" Ray prompted as gently as he could. 

"Back towards the river, that way." She pointed past the park. 

Ray frowned as he jotted down the information, "How do you know it was going to the river?"

"Well it said Water Treatment Plant on the side so I just assumed." 

"Thank you kindly, Mrs. Nunez," Fraser responded before turning to Ray who was already ahead of him. 

"We should check that out now."

"Agreed." Fraser looked down at his wolf. "Dief come." 

The wolf sat and looked at him then back towards Mrs. Nunez. Fraser let out a long-suffering sigh. "Dief, now would be good. You have already had two from here today and you will make yourself sick." 

The wolf whined. 

Closing his eyes momentarily in exasperation, Fraser gave him a dismissive wave. "Oh suit yourself, don't say I didn't warn you. You remember what happened the last time." 

"Fraser, come on!" Ray hollered, already at the car. 

Fraser had already turned away from his stubborn wolf and was trotting towards the GTO. He couldn't help a faint smirk as he heard the clicking of claws on the pavement behind him. 

"What's the hold up?" 

"Dief was having a crisis of loyalty. Food or me."

Ray smirked. "Looks like you won."

"I will not hear the end of it, I can assure you," Fraser replied with resignation as he let the grumbling wolf into the back seat. 

"You're both complete freaks," Ray stated plainly, throwing a grin at his partner. "But you're never boring."

Fraser got in the car and placed his Stetson on the dash. "I am gratified to hear that, Ray."

"I didn't say it was always a good thing, Fraser," Ray teased fondly. "The whole endangering my life in wildly bizarre ways, thing, I could live without."

"I thought you merely required a warning beforehand?" 

Ray shot his partner a glare, picking up the faintest smirk at the corner of Fraser's mouth, his tone as dry as sandpaper. "You're a smart ass, Fraser." 

A subtle smile played across the Mountie's lips, "Indubitably, Ray."

****

The water treatment plant was a large expanse of pipes and humming featureless buildings. Getting out of the car, Fraser commanded Diefenbaker to stay put while he and Ray looked around. Ray noticed Fraser crouch down suddenly a short way from the GTO and he rounded the car. "Found something?"

"Tire tracks." Fraser didn't say anything more and pointed before leading the way towards one of the buildings, his eyes focusing on the ground as he followed the tracks. 

Ray stayed close, looking around them for any sign of a blue van. Passing the first building they turned a corner and Fraser stopped and tapped Ray's chest to get his attention. Following his finger, Ray also spied the back of a blue van, parked nearby next to another large building. A shot cracked the air and the two men sprang into action, pressing up against the adjacent building out of the line of sight of the van. Ray gestured silently to Fraser that he would go around the other side and give them the element of surprise. “Stay here,” he hissed urgently at his partner before sprinting across the lot. 

Watching Ray leave, Fraser peered out from the side of the building and heard the van door slam shut. Taking his chances he approached cautiously. Fraser had barely crossed half the distance when another shot rang out. He’d been spotted. Not that he was easy to miss, his brown uniform and Stetson, while not the red Serge, still stood out. He broke into a sprint, his thoughts immediately awash with trepidation and the need to eliminate the threat as he thought of Ray being in danger. 

A man glanced out from the side of the van glaring in Fraser’s direction. Raising his weapon he fired again as Fraser dove behind some barrels, wincing when the bullet ricocheted off the metal containers, just above his head. 

"There's nowhere for you to run!" Fraser called out, peering past the barrels, only to get shot at again for his trouble.

"Right past you." The man snarled, quickly figuring out that Fraser didn't have a weapon. He charged towards the adjacent building and Fraser gave chase.

****

Having also heard the shot, Ray had drawn his weapon and raced around the building. He reached the van and found a man shot between the eyes in the front seat. Upon hearing another shot firing, he sprinted around in time to see Fraser chasing a man onto the roof of one of the buildings. "Shit!" he swore to himself, his partner once again diving headfirst into danger.

Racing to the fire escape, he flew up the steps as fast as he could and caught sight of the gunman leaping onto a nearby building. There was no cover, yet he just knew Fraser would be right on his heels. Sure enough, a blur of brown rushed past and ducked behind an air compressor as two more shots were fired. "Damnit Fraser, stay down!" He yelled, panicked as he shoved his glasses onto his face and opened fire on the gunman, narrowly missing as he disappeared behind another compressor. 

Fraser had seen Ray but couldn't hear his partner over the sound of the compressor beside him. Nonetheless, he had every faith Ray would cover him as he bolted out towards the next building. Another shot whizzed past him, accompanied by answering shots from his partner, preventing the man from taking aim at Fraser. He leapt, landed, rolled and kept running, rushing the man as he was about to jump off the building onto a nearby truck. 

Ray felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he watched his partner and the gunman disappear over the side of the building. "Fraser!" He screamed as he scrambled across the roof, not hesitating to leap onto the next roof. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the building and looked down at Fraser restraining the man on top of the truck and kicking his gun away. "Son of a bitch," he uttered, rubbing his face with relief when the Mountie looked up and flashed a smile at him. 

"I'm alright, Ray, could you throw me your handcuffs?" 

"You won't be alright, Fraser when I get down from here," he yelled frustratedly as he tossed the handcuffs. 

"Why's that, Ray?" Fraser shouted back.

"Because I'm going to kick you in the head, you big idiot! Scared the fucking shit out of me!" 

"Ah," Fraser felt somewhat contrite. He hadn't wanted to frighten Ray. He watched as the man headed down the fire escape, calling on his phone for a team to their location and then lowered their prisoner to him. "It wasn't my intention, Ray," he started to explain as he jumped down from the truck bed, landing beside his partner. 

"It never is, Benton Fraser, but if you saw your partner falling off the side of a building with an armed criminal, what would you fucking think?" he lightly shoved Fraser's shoulder to get his point across. 

Pulling at his ear, Fraser ducked his head, "I'm sorry, Ray but I concluded that a lead, in this case, would be too valuable to give up given the scarcity of evidence and witnesses."

Ray hefted the cuffed man to his feet, "On your feet, you have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have a right to a lawyer, if you can't afford one, one will be provided, if you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer, you have the right to stop at any time. Now move your ass before I pop you." He kept tight hold of the man as they returned to the blue van. He pointed an angry finger at his partner. "You could have been killed, you moron, not even you can dodge a bullet."

"I am aware of that, Ray, however, his aim was off so I surmised that he--"

"-- you surmised… look I don't want to hear it, Fraser!"

"We needed this lead, Ray," Fraser insisted. 

Ray whipped around, stopping Fraser in his tracks two fingers jabbing him in the chest as he got into his face, "Not at the cost of your life!" he snapped, his fierce gaze meeting Fraser's startled one. "Nothing's worth that, okay? You hear me, Fraser? Am I getting through that thick skull of yours? No lead, no evidence is worth your life."

Fraser was momentarily taken aback by the ferocity and intensity of Ray's argument. "You have made your point quite clear," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry my actions," he rubbed his eyebrow self consciously with his thumb, "...caused you excessive concern but I felt quite assured I would be alright with you covering my back."

Ray stared at Fraser for a long tense moment, before tearing his gaze away and marching their prisoner back towards the van, his argument deflated by Fraser's sincere words. Ray knew it wasn't just platitudes with Fraser. If the man said he trusted you to have his back, then he trusted you and for Fraser, Ray knew that was a big thing to admit. Fraser saw the best in everyone, even the criminals but he didn't trust easily, didn't let anyone close. Ray chewed his lip, he had read enough of Vecchio's files to know why so to know that Fraser openly trusted him with his life was somewhat humbling and he needed time to process that information.

"You don't get partners like this every day, Son," the older Mountie appeared beside Ray whose temper seemed to be somewhat mollified by Fraser's apology. 

"You guys should get a room," the handcuffed man sneered, grunting when Ray shoved him to keep moving. 

"Shut it, keep moving," Ray growled. "Excessive concern my ass," Ray muttered, regaining some of his bluster as he shoved the man in front of him. "You scare me like that again, Ben, I'll shoot you myself!" he shouted back over his shoulder at his partner. 

Fraser's eyes widened in surprise at the abbreviated use of his first name. Ray had never called him Ben before. It was something only those who had known him since he was young called him, Quinn and Buck, those he regarded as family. Even his father called him Benton rather than Ben. 

"Speaks from the heart this Yank," Robert Fraser continued. "I like him, he knows what's important in a partnership."

"Oh and I suppose I don't hm?" Fraser muttered. 

"Oh no need to get touchy, Son. You know that sometimes your pursuit of justice can leave you blind to the risks and the hurt caused by the consequences of those risks."

"Speaking from experience are you?" 

The ghost of Robert Fraser met his son's gaze somewhat wistfully. "As a matter of fact, I am, Son. It's something you only see when it's too late, leaving you only regret." 

"I'm not you," Fraser bit out with a quiet bitterness, looking down at his hat in his hands that he had retrieved from the floor. He placed it on his head and followed his partner. 

Robert Fraser watched his son go and smiled, "No, Son, you're a better man than I was." 

Ray shoved the criminal into the back seat of his GTO. “Dief, he tries anything, eat him,” he snarled. 

“Hey man, is that a wolf?!” The man resisted. “You can’t put me in there with a fucking wolf!” 

“He’s a half-wolf actually,” Fraser interjected evenly. “You’ll be fine as long as you remain calm.” He shut the door on the man’s protests and turned to his partner who was leaning against the front passenger door, his arms folded, his hands tucked under his arms, pointedly not looking at Fraser. 

“Crime scene guys are on the way. We stay put.” 

"Ray I--"

"Frase it's alright. I lost my temper, you scared me, you're alright, I'm alright, we're good. I don't want to fight you and you were right," he remembered the last time things had gotten tense and he had clocked a fast right hook into Fraser's jaw. He never wanted to see Fraser look at him like that again. "I had your back. Would just appreciate not seeing you disappear off the side of a building if it's all the same to you?"

"Yes of course, Ray, I can understand how that can be disconcerting, I would feel the same were our positions reversed."

"Difference being, Fraser, I don't throw myself off buildings for anybody."

"Oh I’m not so sure, Ray, you can be just as tenacious in chasing down criminals and with little regard for your own wellbeing. You jumped in front of a bullet the first day we met after all."

"I was wearing a vest," Ray huffed a laugh. 

“She could have shot you in the head!” 

"Yeah, and you have made me pay for that ten times over." 

Fraser tugged on his ear wryly, "I apologise, you know I don't mean to worry you."

"We're buddies and we're cops, Frase, kinda comes with the territory," Ray acquiesced with a small shrug. "I'm used to it." 

Fraser looked contemplatively at his partner and tilted his head to the right, "That's the first time you’ve called me Ben." 

Ray looked up at that, "Really?"

Fraser nodded, "Mmhm."

Running a hand through his hair, Ray faltered, "That's okay though right? I mean if you mind I won't say it again, I just got a little heated you know?"

"It is my name, Ray," Fraser responded mildly. He placed a hand on his partner's arm and gave him a small warm smile. "I don't mind in the least."

Ray's face broke into a grin at that. "Oh well good, greatness. Uh, we should check out the van. There's another dead guy in there."

"Another victim?" 

"Yeah but not like the other one, he was shot in the head, execution-style. I got a hunch, Fraser, I think they're related. That guy we collared, he's messed up in all of this somehow."

He stopped and watched as Fraser opened the back of the van and peered inside. He raised his eyebrows when Fraser pulled out a latex glove and a plastic baggy. “Do you just carry those around with you?”

“Proper preparation, Ray--”

“--I know, I know, prevents poor performance.” He watched as Fraser first scraped a sample into the plastic baggy and sealed it before he ran his fingers along the outside of the van. "What d'you find?" 

Fraser stepped back and sniffed the brown stain smearing two of his fingers. 

Ray grimaced and feigned a gag, "Augh, you don't know what that is, Fraser please don’t lick it!" He really ought to have been used to Fraser sticking his tongue in places it didn't belong by now but it still turned his stomach. There were much better places his tongue could go in his opinion. Ray ignored that errant thought for the moment, there was a time and a place and this was neither. 

"Metal," Fraser commented simply, looking at his partner's disgusted face. "Rust, Ray, just like we found under the victim's fingernails and something else," He mused thoughtfully, touching a small sample with the tip of his tongue letting the taste linger. “Schizomycetes.”

“Schizo what?”

“Microorganisms, Ray, found in untreated water. They exude a taste and smell of decaying matter--”

“--That’s disgusting.”

“And cause the production of Hydrogen Sulfide. Much like what we found under the victim’s fingernails.”

"So my hunch is right, they are related?" Ray declared with no small amount of satisfaction. 

"It would seem that way," Fraser frowned as he looked inside the van, finding reddish stains in the wood panel lining the floor of the vehicle. He shone a small flashlight onto it and hummed. The stains there did not look like rust. Ray came up beside him, a hand resting on Fraser's back almost unconsciously and peered closer. "Shit, is that what I think it is?"

Fraser nodded, "Blood, multiple stains, new on top of old," he drew back and regarded his partner with a grim realisation. 

“See this is why we don’t go around licking things, Fraser.” 

“Well, I didn’t lick the inside of the van, Ray.”

“Shouldn’t be licking anything, you freak!” Ray continued, looking up as the crime scene team began to arrive. “So what does a body in the park, blood in a van and a professional hit job mean to you, Frase?”

Fraser could tell by the dark look swimming in Ray's pale grey eyes staring back at him that he had come to the same conclusion. "I think we may be onto something much bigger than it appears, Ray." 

****

Lowering their binoculars once the Detective and uniformed man - what kind of police uniform was that anyway? - got into a black GTO and drove away, the dark cladded figure, hidden on a roof muttered a curse and picked up their phone. "Yeah it's me, we have a problem. Police got here first."

They paused and nodded as the voice on the other end of the phone relayed instructions. 

"I'll handle it, yeah don't worry, wouldn't be the first time I've infiltrated a police station."

****

Back at the station, Ray was thumbing through the case files, going through the evidence they had gathered so far as he walked to the interview room where their suspect was being held. He had had to drop Fraser off at the consulate for his own duty shift so he was on his own mulling over what Fraser had said about the case being bigger than it appeared. It was uncanny how they occasionally had the exact same thought at times. Ray had a bad feeling that all those cases from the other precincts Welsh had pulled were in fact linked, which made it a big deal, potentially not something the 2-7 could handle by itself. 

"Hey Frannie!" he turned and headed back, perching on his pretend sister's desk. 

"What is it, can't you see I'm busy?" 

He pulled down the spine of her magazine with a pencil, "In the men's magazine?"

Their eyes met and Francesca blushed, then put the magazine down. "It's not for me you idiot, it's for Fraser."

Ray blatantly smirked. In taking this undercover job to be Detective Raymond Vecchio, Ray hadn't realised that he would be adopted into the Vecchio family. Even Francesca, who wound him up as much as he did her, was like the sister he had never had and she was nothing if not tenacious when she wanted something. Even if that something was a seemingly clueless Mountie who always looked like he was going to burst into flames rather than succumb to her advances. Ray had a sneaky suspicion that his partner wasn't as oblivious as he led everyone to believe though it definitely served to keep the likes of Francesca at arm's length. Much to Ray's amusement. 

That was Fraser through and through though, underneath that polite, chaste Mountie mask he was snarky, funny and definitely not innocent nor unobservant of other people's body language. That just made Ray all the more careful about accidentally showing his own inappropriate feelings towards his partner. "Aha," he grinned. 

"Very funny. Don't you aha me. I bet you didn't even know it's his birthday next week did you?"

"Yeah," Ray shot back defensively. "Of course I knew," he felt a wave of guilt as he had in actual fact forgotten. "It's on uh Friday."

"Thursday," Frannie corrected with a smug smirk. 

"Yeah that's what I said," he answered quickly trying to cover up the fact he was a terrible best friend and partner. "So what you uh, getting him?" he grinned. "Better not be anything resembling a kiss or human contact Frannie or you'll send him packing to the great white North faster than you can blink and that would piss me off."

"I thought about a nice sweater, I've seen him in that ragged white one he sometimes wears and considering he's so impeccably dressed most of the time, it's surprising his civilian clothes are so shabby." 

"Maybe he's comfortable?" 

Francesca snorted, "Yes well he would look much more comfortable in this don't you think?" She lifted the magazine and tapped the picture of a model posing in the latest winter wear, a red cable knit sweater. 

Picturing Fraser in the sweater, Ray had to admit that it would look good, damn good. The man could pull off any colour but whenever he wore red it was like he had stepped out of a model shoot, even if it was rigid red serge. "Yeah sure, I'm not really qualified to judge," he shrugged noncommittally, using one of Fraser's lines that the Mountie had used on him when Ray had asked him if he found him attractive in the first week of meeting him. He smiled to himself as he remembered Fraser replying  _ 'Very much so yes,' _ albeit stiffly. 

Damn it! He really needed to stop thinking about Fraser and sweaters and attractiveness and Fraser finding him attractive in the same thought and now he needed to think of something to get him for his birthday.

"Yeah, wrong person to ask," Francesca sighed dejectedly. "I've seen what you wear."

"Har de haha," Ray pulled a face at her. "Anyway some of us need some actual police work done around here. I need you to check a couple of the neighbouring states for reports of bodies appearing in parks, within the last six months."

"States?" Francesca stared at him. "That could take forever."

He grinned at her, "Better get started now then," he flicked the elastic band he had been fiddling with on her desk and sauntered off as she made a rude Italian gesture at him. "Right back at you, Frannie, get it done and I won't tell Fraser what you're getting him for his birthday," he threw her a dazzling shit-eating grin. Backing away from her desk, he ducked when she pinged the elastic band at his head. Having a fake sister to wind up was greatness.

**** 

Fraser had of course chosen to walk the 22 blocks from the consulate to the 27th precinct police department, with Diefenbaker. As his jog had been unexpectedly interrupted that morning, a bit more exercise for them both wouldn't go amiss. He had needed to clear his head anyway. 

The day thus far had been a rollercoaster. Paperwork for the consulate had, for once, been a relief. His mind kept returning to the lecture Ray had given him. Fraser was accustomed to such outbursts. He had accepted early on, his former partner, Ray Vecchio's, assessment of him being the most annoying man in the world. His way of doing things had never and would never win him any popularity contests and for all intents and purposes had gotten him exiled from Canada. He also knew that Ray Kowalski would attest to him being annoying, "That would be something both Rays would undoubtedly bond over should they ever come to meet," he declared aloud with vague amusement, prompting his wolf to glance up at him with a querying whine. 

However, the intensity of his lecture had stirred something within Fraser. Something that had been quietly lurking, lying dormant at the back of his mind. When Ray had spoken his given name aloud, albeit an abbreviated version usually uttered affectionately, Fraser had felt his heart quicken. There had been something in the man's words and fierce gaze that had cowed him. 

The last time he had seen such intensity of emotion directed at him was prior to their case aboard the Henry Allen. Fraser would never forget the look on Ray's face after the man had punched him in the jaw. Frustration, anger, fear and something Fraser was unable to place. On anybody else, he would recognise it as a longing but Fraser would not, could not surmise that was even close to what Ray had been feeling. What he had realised was that through all his bluster and temper Ray genuinely cared about his well being. 

He had known this of course, they were friends, partners but there was something substantially different and significant in being told a thing and witnessing the feeling in another. Fraser couldn't prevent the warmth in his chest as he acknowledged that fact and if he was being completely honest with himself, he felt the same level of care for Ray. Care that likely bordered on the unprofessional at times. He simply put it down to the growth of their partnership into real genuine friendship. That was something Fraser did not take lightly and was gratified that they had worked through so many of their earlier problems to attain this level of comfort and familiarity with one another. He certainly wasn't going to risk all that by indulging in fanciful feelings of wanton attraction for his partner, no matter how persistent and intense those feelings were. 

His thoughts drifted away when he got the distinct whiff of smoke. Alarmed at the direction it was coming from, he broke into a sprint towards the station, his navy peacoat flaring out either side of him, revealing the red underlayer. 

Diefenbaker ran on ahead reaching the station first and carried on running past the throngs of officers stumbling out of the front door through thick billows of black smoke, into the building. Fraser caught sight of his wolf disappearing inside and his worry skyrocketed. Spying Francesca staggering out, coughing, he caught her arm and helped her sit down in the parking lot. "What happened?" 

She shook her head, her hand curled into the sleeve of his coat. "There was no warning, the smoke just came from nowhere. Then the alarm went off."

"Where's the fire?"

She coughed again and spluttered, "I didn't see it, Harding ordered us out," she looked up sharply, panic in her eyes and her hand tightened on his coat. "Ray, he was in the interview room, he's still in there."

"Don't worry, Francesca, I'll find him," he patted her hand and shrugged off his coat, draping it around her narrow shoulders gallantly before rushing into the burning building, ignoring Francesca calling his name in alarm.

****

Fraser first ran into Detectives Dewey and Huey corralling the various prisoners and civilians towards the exits. "Where is the fire!?" 

"Somebody said it was in lockup but the smoke is too thick to check!" Dewey shouted back over the sound of the alarm. 

"The Lieutenant?"

"He was clearing the interview rooms, he should be here by now," Huey glanced at his partner worriedly. "He sent us to get the civilians out first."

"Vecchio is still in interview room 2, I didn't see him leave, that entire area was chaos," Dewey added worriedly. 

"I'll find them!" 

"You can't go back there, Red, it's smoky as hell!" Huey cried out to the Mountie's retreating back. "Fraser!" 

Fraser tore through the smoke-filled corridor, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve. Yanking out his handkerchief he tied it around his face and leapt over a discarded chair. His astute hearing picked up the sounds of yelling between the blare of the fire alarm and he ran as fast as he was able. Ducking beneath the growing cloud of smoke, Fraser spotted the form of Lieutenant Harding Welsh sprawled on the ground. "Lieutenant!" Immediately he rushed to his side, frowning at the trickle of blood on the side of his head. 

"Constable, it's a setup," the man growled, coughing due to smoke inhalation as the younger man helped him to his feet. "They set this whole thing up to get to the interview room. There are two of em, probably used smoke bombs to trigger the alarms, walked right into my precinct in the panic. I tried to stop them but they clocked me one." 

"They’re searching for someone?" 

"I think that guy you brought in," he scowled deeply as Fraser steadied him with a hand on his elbow. "Maybe Vecchio as well, he came out and was about to try to help me, I told him to run, one of the bastards opened fire on him as soon as they saw him, they missed. They hit me in the head and chased after him and the suspect."

"Which way, Sir?" Fraser pressed urgently. 

"Towards the service elevator, to the basement."

Fraser licked his lower lip, looking around them, the smoke growing thicker, his handkerchief doing little to prevent the scratchiness and dryness of his throat as he breathed in the smoke, making him cough. "The elevator would have stopped operation when the fire alarm activated."

"Stairs, just over there," Welsh pointed ahead of them. 

"Sir, I insist you go outside, I'll go after him." 

"Not on your life, Constable. No offense, this is my watch and the detective is one of mine, I'm with you."

"Right you are," Fraser saw no point in arguing, he could see how personal this already was for the man and deeply understood the feeling. He raced to the stairs, Welsh on his heels. Flinging open the door, they both sucked in a deep cleansing breath as the smoke escaped up to the roof. Eyes watering from the intensity of the smoke, Fraser began the descent, his sharp hearing picking up the sound of a familiar barking echoing through the shaft. "Diefenbaker, he's found them."

"How is that possible in this mess?" 

"Scent, Sir. Dief is very familiar with Ray's scent and has taken rather a shine to him.”

"Huh," Welsh grunted as they flew down the stairs. "That wolf might just save his life," he replied gravely. 

Those words and the fear that Ray's life might be in very real danger spurred Fraser on. He left the Lieutenant in his wake when the older man urged him to go on ahead of him with assurances he would catch up. Fraser practically leapt down the last three flights of stairs, flinging himself over the rail and towards the sound of Diefenbaker's loud urgent barking. 

****

"Ray!" The dim corridor thankfully had minimal smoke and Fraser pulled the cloth from his face as he hollered for his partner. "Ray, Ray!" 

The barking got louder and under the dim basement lights, Fraser made out the shape of Diefenbaker standing over a couple of bodies. "Ray!" He went cold and sprinted over, dropping immediately to kneel beside his friend who was half slumped over against the wall. Fraser noted a faint sweet smell in the air that was a welcome relief from the smoke but thought nothing more about it as he focused on his downed partner. Tugging Ray upright, Fraser inhaled sharply at the sight of Ray covered in blood, checked his pulse and upon finding it strong, tried to rouse him by lightly slapping his face until the detective groaned. Relief flooded through him at the sound and he immediately began checking Ray for injuries, his deft fingers feeling over his body for any broken bones or contusions. 

Ray giggled and squirmed under Fraser's hands, his eyes fluttering open. "Frase, Fraser, Benton buddy!" He grabbed hold of his partner's frantically searching hands. "Stop!" 

"You're hurt," Fraser stated gravely. 

"It's not me, not my blood," he assured, gripping Fraser's hands tighter as he got the man to listen. "I'm okay." 

Fraser deflated somewhat, holding Ray's earnest gaze for a few seconds before he finally nodded and relaxed. Looking over at the other body face down on the floor beside Ray, he bent over him to check his pulse. 

"Bastard is alive, Dief took a chunk out of him though," Ray explained as he nursed the welt forming on his forehead, wiping away the trickle of blood from where the butt of a gun had smacked him. He ruffled Dief's fur when the wolf nudged him and licked his face with a whine. "They shot the guy we brought in and he fell on me, this is his blood, he's over there," Ray gestured with his head, wincing as it sent pain lancing through his skull. Fraser immediately picked up on his grimace and gently fingered the injury on Ray's forehead. 

"You may have a concussion."

"Fraser, I'm fine. Our suspect is dead, one of the shooters got away after trying to kill me. I'm pissed but I'm fine." 

"Constable!" Welsh's voice echoed down the corridor.

"Here, Lieutenant," Fraser returned. "Ray is alright. We need an ambulance, the gunman has been bitten."

"Did you say bit?" Welsh clarified as he joined them, out of breath. 

"Yeah, Dief here jumped him when he was about to shoot me in the head, came out of fucking nowhere. Bit a chunk out of his arm when he decided to tackle a fucking wolf, gave me chance to grab his gun, he put up a hell of a fight, which is how I got this," Ray explained, angrily pointing at his own head. "Clocked him, knocked him out cold. Cuffed him, then passed out. The other one got away, not my most impressive arrest Sir."

Welsh huffed, "Neither of you got shot, I'd call that a win, come on, fire exit is this way." 

"Yes, it's good work, Ray."

"Thank you kindly, Fraser," Ray smirked at his partner.

Fraser helped Ray to his feet and steadied him with both hands on his shoulders. 

"Fraser, for the last time I'm fine, got a killer headache but I'm good." Ray insisted but didn't shake his hands off. "Now you know how I feel all the time so quit worrying."

"Would you 'quit worrying' as you say, if the tables were turned?" 

Ray pursed his lips at that and shrugged, deliberately not thinking about Fraser being in harm's way, despite the fact of it happening all the goddamned time because the Mountie had some kind of adrenaline addiction, "I don't know, you'd have probably persuaded them to come quietly with some Inuit story about fishing or being lost on the icy tundra with a wolf or some shit," he deflected with a small teasing smile. 

"That would be about as effective as your kick in the head, Ray." 

Narrowing his eyes at Fraser, Ray poked him in the chest. "You being a wise guy, Frase?" Ray was grateful for the easy banter to break the tension. They flowed better, it was smooth like something had shifted after their saga on the Henry Allen and had finally slotted into place. Although Ray couldn't put his finger on what it was that had changed, he just knew that it had. 

"I'm merely stating a fact, Ray," Fraser replied mildly, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up as he rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb the way he always did when he was avoiding telling the whole truth. Another thing, Mr. 'I'm a Mountie; I don't lie,' did all too often. They began following Welsh towards the exit when Ray suddenly stopped. "Aren't you forgetting something, Fraser?" 

Stopping and staring at his partner, Fraser couldn't for the life of him figure out what Ray was talking about. "...would you like a hug?"

Ray snorted and hit the back of his hand on Fraser's chest. "Not me, you idiot, him," he jerked his thumb towards the man still lying on the floor. 

"Ah," Fraser balked a little and went over to lift the man over his shoulders and carry him out. 

"A hug, Fraser?" Ray asked incredulously as they fell into step beside each other. 

"Well it is customary to offer some sort of tactile comfort when one has been injured or caught up in a traumatic incident, Ray, given the circumstances it was not wholly unusual for me to ask, you are quite a tactile man after all."

"You're a freak," Ray snickered. "Next you'll be asking me if you can kiss my head better."

"Only if you would like me to, Ray." 

Ray stared at his partner like he had grown a second head, hearing the smile in Fraser's voice, he thwapped him lightly on the arm. "What's this I hear, Frase? Because it better not be the sound of you being a complete smart ass or I'll have to see how effective my kick in the head really is." 

Fraser's responding chuckle was definitely lacking anything remotely resembling contrition. Not that Ray minded. In fact, he went ahead and added smart ass Fraser right up there at the top of his list of reactions he enjoyed getting out of Fraser, along with snarky Fraser, sarcastic Fraser and mildly flustered Fraser. 

****

"So it turns out it was just smoke bombs," Welsh marched into his office a couple of hours later, followed by Detective Kowalski and Constable Fraser, both looking a little worse for wear after their ordeal. "Nothing got burnt, the place is in a mess, we got a suspect in the morgue and another in the hospital, with one of the gunmen, who turned my precinct upside down, out there as free as a bird. Is that about the long and short of it, gentlemen?" 

Both men nodded and mumbled their agreement. 

"It was a woman," Ray declared. 

"Who?" Welsh demanded in confusion. 

"The escaped gunman, she was a woman, I heard her yelling at the other guy. She's the one who shot our suspect too."

"I thought she was behind you, how could you know?" Welsh asked with a frown. 

"When I got the other guy's gun, I checked it, his clip was full."

"That was quick forward-thinking, Ray," Fraser commented, impressed by his partner's ability to shine under duress. 

Ray spared him a glance, pretty used to his partner's off-hand praises by now, even if they did still make him feel a little taller, "Thanks, Frase, figured it would be useful to know." he turned back to Welsh. "If the guy we have isn't the shooter, we can lean on him, offer him something to get him to turn in his accom-- pliance...ces… his partner," he finished before Fraser could correct him.

Welsh nodded and leaned back in his chair, "Good thinking, Detective, get to the hospital, get him talking. We need a lead on this, nobody comes into my station pulls off an execution and gets to walk free, am I clear? We need to find out what fresh hell we've stepped into." 

"Understood, Lieutenant." 

"I'm all over that." 

Fraser and Ray replied simultaneously before they exited the office together. 

****

"Ray, something's bothering me," Fraser announced as Ray pulled the GTO out of the parking lot. 

"Shoot, what is it?"

"The gunman and woman, they clearly had one purpose in mind when they came here."

Ray nodded his understanding, "Yeah, tie up loose ends, kill the guy who could spill his guts."

"Precisely, which means--"

Ray looked at Fraser sharply, finishing his sentence, "She'll do it again. Shit, the hospital." He put his foot down and the GTO accelerated through a stop sign as Fraser switched on the cop light, placing it on the dash, for once not criticising the speed of Ray's driving nor the fact he'd just jumped a red light.

****

They were escorted to the suspect's room when they arrived at the hospital. Upon reaching the floor, they exited the elevator and started the short walk down the corridor from the suspect’s room when Fraser abruptly stopped in his tracks, causing Ray to bump into him. He watched the doctor who had just exited the room pass by them. Her dark head was bowed as she read a file. He turned his head and frowned, tilting it slightly as he caught the whiff of a distinctively sweet smell. One he'd smelled before. "Ray, I may be mistaken but I believe I have smelt the distinctive odour of that chemical combination before," 

"In English, Fraser."

"I smelled that Doctor's perfume earlier," He leaned into his partner speaking quietly into Ray's ear, their gazes following the back of the doctor. "When I found you at the station."

"You think it could be?" 

"I think we should at the very least endeavour to find out," Fraser replied softly. "She came out of his room," he pointed out grimly. Ray didn't get a chance to protest nor stop the man before Fraser was rushing after her. "Frase!" 

The Mountie half-turned to look at his partner, not slowing down his pursuit. 

"Be careful!"

Fraser gave him a sharp sincere nod, "Understood," and then he was gone. 

Ray knew Fraser wouldn't hesitate though, not if innocent people were in danger. He would put himself in harm's way first. Feeling a twist in the pit of his stomach, he raced to their suspect's room and to the man’s bed. He checked immediately for a pulse and found none. “We need a doctor in here!” he yelled at the uniformed officer guarding the door. "Fuck!" he swore loudly, knowing the man was a goner already. He raced past the resuscitation team, grabbed the officer and went after his partner, gun drawn. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the shooter now and she had already killed twice. Ray knew for certain that if Fraser did his Mountie thing and stepped in front of her gun, she wouldn't hesitate to shoot him dead. He picked up his pace.

****

Sure enough, seconds later, he heard a shot being fired and the sound of screaming in the next ward. Arriving shortly after, Ray was directed towards the stairs for the parking lot by frightened nurses. He ordered them to dial 911 and get back up there before he burst through the fire door and flew down the steps, his stomach lurching when he heard the sound of another gunshot. 

The parking lot was eerily quiet and Ray listened, putting on his glasses when he heard Fraser's distinctive voice. He held out a hand to stop the uniformed officer behind him and directed him to stay out of sight and circle around. The man nodded and ducked behind a row of parked cars on the left.

"There's nowhere to run, let the girl go."

Shit, she must have grabbed a hostage. Ray bit his lip and edged forward behind the parked cars on the right. He spotted Fraser's boots first and carefully approached, staying out of sight, hoping to blindside the woman and get behind her. 

"You don't want to do this."

"You don't know what the fuck I want, Mountie," the woman snarled. "But if you come any closer you're going to find out what I'd really like to do to your pretty face."

The hostage whimpered in the woman's vice-like grip. 

Fraser didn't skip a beat, unfazed by her threats, "I know you are following somebody else's orders. That you likely killed your partner back there and that whomever you work for will have just as little consideration for your life as they did theirs if you are arrested."

"So you're a smart guy," she pointed the gun at Fraser and Ray felt his heart in his mouth.

"And if you're so fucking smart, you should realise that’s why I have absolutely no interest in getting arrested. It is however in her," she squeezed the throat of the frightened hostage who screamed fearfully. "Best interests for you to back the hell off and let me walk out of here before I bury a bullet in her brain."

"You know I can't do that," came Fraser's calm reply. "You really think your employer won't terminate your contract now that you've been seen?"

The woman paused for a second, her eyes flickering with uncertainty, it was all Fraser needed to see to know the seed of doubt had been planted. 

"If you help us stop these criminals, you can make a deal for yourself, get protection." 

The woman scoffed, "Are you from another planet!? No cop will protect me."

"No, Canada and yes they will, it's their duty." Fraser took a daring step forward as she bristled.

"Stop! Don't fucking move!" she hollered, her gun lifting from the hostage's temple and aiming at Fraser who froze. "You got a serious fucking death wish or something because I'm more than happy to oblige."

"No, he has me, drop the gun, dirtbag," Ray growled, pressing his gun to the back of her head. 

The woman tensed and raised up her hands, the hostage fled into Fraser's arms sobbing desperately. The woman held Fraser's hard gaze and smirked as she lowered her gun to the floor. 

"Ray!" 

Fraser's warning came a split second too late as she caught the detective by surprise, whipping out a short blade from her boot, turning and plunging it into his right shoulder. Ray let out a shout of pain and staggered back into the trunk of a car, his gun dropping to the ground, giving her the opportunity to run. 

The woman was fast but Fraser was faster. He bounded past his partner and tackled her to the ground. Using his superior bulk, he pinned her there. 

"Frase, handcuffs." The detective fumbled for them and tossed them to Fraser with shaky fingers. 

Snatching them out of the air, Fraser secured her wrists and wasn't polite about it as he hauled her to her feet, the sound of police sirens grew louder in the distance. The uniformed officer jogged over to them having strayed too far away to be of assistance and took hold of the woman while Fraser turned away to tend to his partner.

Ray stood to one side, his left hand wrapped around the blade stuck in his shoulder as he read her the Miranda rights, cursing up a storm as he clutched his shoulder, his injured arm hanging limply by his side.

"Ray, don't touch the knife," Fraser cautioned firmly, earning a glare. 

"It fucking hurts!" Ray swore, angry and frustrated he'd gotten hurt, "Fuck!" 

Fraser was not unsympathetic, "Let's get back into the hospital, get you treated first." he insisted. He curled a hand around Ray's arm, gently steering him back to the exit door, directing the officer to bring the woman with them. "Thank you kindly for the backup, Ray, I could not have done that without you," he added a little more softly.

"Don't mention it, Frase. Figured you wouldn’t listen to me about being careful." Ray closed his eyes momentarily, he hadn't meant that to sound so pissy. Stealing a subtle glance at Fraser he internally swore when he saw those blue eyes lower and the man's brows crease together in response to his words.

"She did have a hostage, Ray, I couldn't--"

"I know, I know, Fraser, you did good. We're a duet, remember?" Ray backtracked quickly wanting to erase the hurt he had seen flickering in the Mountie's eyes. "I got your back," he flashed his partner a small grin which turned into a grimace and a gasp when a flash of pain seared through his shoulder. 

"Well aren't you two just fucking adorable," the woman sneered before Fraser could respond. 

"Shut your mouth before I pop you in the head," Ray snarled out, feeling the squeeze of Fraser's hand on his arm, tempering him, as he always did, before Ray did something he would regret. 

****

**4 hours later** . 

Ray was pissed, his arm in a thin sling, the stitches in his shoulder pulling at his skin, taut, uncomfortable, sore. He didn't let it show, however, as he flicked through the woman's file. "Meredith DuPont, huh," he commented, turning the page to scan through her rap sheet. "Foster kid, bounced around a few homes, got mixed in with the wrong crowd, next thing you know you’re in the system for petty theft, arson, assault, assault with a deadly weapon," he listed casually. It showed a classic escalation of behaviour, ticking all those psychological boxes. Yet, it seemed off to him somehow, too neat, too tidy. "Then nothing, so how'd you get from petty thug to contract killer? Seems a bit of a jump. Your employer accepting walk-ins?" he dropped the file on the table dismissively. 

The woman, Meredith, just gave him a stony glare and remained silent. Ray pushed ahead regardless. 

"Because it seems odd to me that you just found a job like this, with secret employers who'd sooner shoot you dead than pay you, when all you seem to be is a petty thief with a bad temper."

"Go screw yourself," the woman replied with a smirk. "Or better yet, get your Mountie friend to screw you. Might help you relax." 

"Oh, you think you know me huh? Think it's that easy to get in my head?" Ray fidgeted with his sling nonchalantly.

Meredith snorted a laugh, "Please, it's as obvious as daylight how much you want him," she drawled. "So you're a closet case and homophobic, wouldn't be the first cop," she goaded. 

In the adjacent room, watching the interview, Fraser stiffened and clenched his jaw. Her demeanour unsettled him. Her words, though an obvious bait, touched a nerve in him and he seethed silently for his friend, knowing how such accusations could tarnish a cop's reputation and his career, even if they were unfounded. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from focusing on Ray's reaction to her words, gauging (definitely not hoping) whether or not any of them rang true for his partner. 

Ray drew back a dark smile playing across his lips, "You put a knife in my shoulder, spent five minutes with me and my partner and you think calling me queer is going to what? Make me forget the fact you shot up a police station, shot a man dead, assaulted a cop and killed your partner, and that you did it all for some faceless guy in a suit pulling your strings?" He sat down gracefully into the opposite seat, a misleading picture of calm. "Meredith, call me whatever you want, I don't care. I'm not a puppet being told what to do, too stupid to notice the gun at my back. Can see who got all the brains in your partnership and who got the looks," he winked at her.

Bristling at the backhanded, passive-aggressive compliment, Meredith's smirk faded when she met Ray's intense gaze, his light grey eyes never wavering, his voice steady, a far cry from the nervous energy of earlier. This man knew exactly what he was doing and she mentally kicked herself for underestimating him.

"That's what you are now isn't it?" Ray sat back in his seat, casual. "A puppet. You're as good as dead outside these walls, you know that, I know that, the Mountie knows that, but all you have to do is sing like a bird and we can cut those strings for you. How much is your silence worth? It was worth your partner's life, is it worth yours?"

Fraser smiled, unseen behind the one way glass, despite himself. Ray was good at getting under skin. He was shrewd, intelligent, adept at finding that vulnerability in a suspect and then needling it until they caved. He enjoyed watching the man work, observing his process, silently wishing Ray could see this level of competency in himself. Fraser, now quite familiar with Ray's methods, found himself holding his breath, waiting for the moment when Ray would attack that exposed nerve and rend what he wanted from their suspect.

Leaning forward on the table, Meredith smiled sweetly at the Detective, "You have no idea, but I'm guessing that's normal for you," she winked at him and sat back.

Ray stood up so suddenly, so aggressively that his chair flew back into the wall and Meredith drew back startled as he slammed the case files onto the desk, opening them and spreading the photos of the bodies that had been dumped throughout Chicago with the same MO. "Is it worth all these lives, huh? What, these boys deserved what they got, hm? Some of them are just kids, the same age you were when you were in the system."

Fraser's breath caught in his throat, the suddenness of the shift in Ray had taken even him by surprise but it was gratifying to watch nonetheless. That was Ray through and through. He was unpredictable, volatile and yet utterly in control, not afraid to use his emotions nor to feel, no matter what others around him thought, Fraser's polar opposite in so many ways. It was what made him a great detective and partner in Fraser's humble opinion. 

Meredith couldn't help but look shocked at the increasingly disturbing images, her eyes widening and breath hitching as she turned her gaze away, closing her eyes tightly. She had known. Had known all too well but had been able to distance herself from that part of the operation. Knowing you were working for people doing terrible things and seeing the evidence of them were two very different things and she had been so careful not to see. Seeing would have only reminded her of who the Mckinley’s had taken from her and distracted her from her goal of destroying everything they had built. 

"Look at them!" Ray hollered, lifting the worst of the pictures to her eyes. "Look at their faces!”

The interview room door opened and Ray audibly growled in frustration when the Lieutenant's face appeared. "Detective, with me."

"But Lieu?" 

"Now, Vecchio," Welsh ordered, not leaving any room for argument. 

"What's that you were saying about not having your strings pulled?" Meredith uttered smugly.

Ray stared up at the ceiling in exasperation, grabbed the file and photos and stormed out of the interview room, almost bumping into Fraser who exited the room beside interview room two at the same time and fell into step behind them. "Lieu, I was close, she was about to talk, what the hell?"

"It did seem like Ray was finally going to get some much-needed information regarding the operation she works for. She appeared shocked at the images you showed her, Ray," he affirmed.

"See, I was going to get her to sing," Ray insisted, annoyed at the Lieutenant's interference. "She knows she's a liar uh libelity now."

"Liability, Ray," Fraser offered easily.

"Yeah, a loose end."

"Things have taken a turn, Detective, Constable," Welsh explained, acknowledging Fraser behind him with a look, as they headed to his office. "I'll let them explain," he gestured to the two dark-suited men waiting in his office. 

****

"Agent Jones and Agent Wallis, we're here to officially remand your suspect to our custody," the taller man announced. 

"The hell you are!" Ray got in his space, "Lieu, tell ‘em they can't do this, this is our jurisdiction."

Welsh sighed, "No can do, Detective, it seems we've stepped on some toes and interfered with an undercover operation."

Fraser's eyes widened in realisation, "Meredith Dupont, she's your operative."

"That's an astute observation, uh…Constable?" Agent Jones canted his head suspiciously.

"Ah, yes, forgive me, Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and--"

"--Frase!" Ray snapped impatiently. 

"That's not important, suffice to say I am here as a liaison, and I assisted Detective Vecchio in the arrest of Miss Dupon."

"Potentially ruining months of investigative police work," Agent Wallis growled out.

Ray squared up to the man, "That's bullshit! You're just pissed we got results."

"Whatever the case, the constable's assessment is almost correct. DuPont is not an agent. She’s our informant, she made a deal to work with us and testify in exchange for leniency when we take down her employers. So we need to get her back into the field before they suspect she’s been arrested and we lose any connection we may have with this operation." Jones turned to Lieutenant Welsh. "Here are the orders," he handed over a slip of paper. 

Ray exploded, "You're taking the case off me! What the hell, Lieutenant! You can't let the feds do this! Not to mention they’re putting a known killer back on the streets!" 

Welsh sank into his chair, elbows resting on his desk. "The case is out of my hands, Detective," he declared, an edge of warning to his voice. “But I do agree with his assessment of Ms. DuPont. I can’t release her to you.”

“She is under contract with the FBI, it’s already been agreed,” Wallis protested. “Here is a court order, releasing her to our custody.”

"So you haven't had any leads in months and as soon as we make headway you come hump our asses and snatch it from under us? What, not meet your quota for being assholes this month?!" 

"Ray," Fraser cautioned as his partner got worked up. 

"No Fraser, I'm not having it. It's our collar, our case. We did the leg work, I got fucking stabbed!" 

"Ray, language," Fraser chided, tugging his own earlobe in consternation. 

"We appreciate your cooperation but your services," and Wallis blatantly looked Fraser up and down at that point with an incredulous sneer, "Whatever they may be, are no longer required." 

Catching the agent's disdainful look, Ray lost it and went for the man, his fist clenched. "You think you're better than him because he wears a uniform? Better than me, wise guy? I'll put you on your ass one-handed!" 

Fraser moved quickly and grabbed the arm, moving between Ray and the FBI agent, facing his partner and pushing him back. "Ray Ray Ray RAY!" 

"What!" 

"You need to calm down." 

"I suggest you get better control of your Detectives, Lieutenant. We'll be in touch if we need anything," Jones declared. 

"Yeah, no doubt," Welsh grunted, not liking the situation any more than Ray was. 

"You're just going to let them walk out of here with my case?" Ray yelled at the Lieutenant extremely aware he was skirting the line of insubordination. 

Welsh pinned him with a resigned glare, "Detective, need I remind you that this was their case first and your suspect is an FBI informant. You had nothing. Let it go, Chicago has plenty of crime to go around."

"This is bullshit!"

"You'll get no argument from me," Welsh agreed. "But it's done, so why don't you take the rest of the day and clear your head, instead of picking fights with feds in my office."

"I'm fine," Ray growled out. 

"I wasn't asking, Detective." 

"Thanks for having my back, Sir," Ray snarled insincerely at the Lieutenant before marching out of his office, slamming the door behind him. 

Flinching at the outburst, Fraser met Welsh's weary gaze. "I'm sure he didn't mean that, Sir."

"Oh I'm sure," Welsh replied dryly.

"I should go follow him."

"Yeah." 

Fraser ducked his head in apology and reached for the door. 

"Constable."

"Sir?"

"Keep the twitchy bastard out of trouble."

Fraser nodded curtly, picking up on the note of concern in the Lieutenant's gruff voice. "I'll do my best, Lieutenant." 

"I know you will, Constable. I don't want to see him here until tomorrow."

"Understood."

"And Constable?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"If he's of a mind to listen to reason at any point, tell him I said good work today. Both of you."

A small smile lifted one corner of Fraser's mouth. "I will, Lieutenant, thank you kindly."

Welsh watched him leave and let out a sigh. He felt somewhat guilty using the Mountie to wrangle the highly-strung Kowalski but he couldn't deny they made a good team. Kowalski's case record was one of the best, not unlike Vecchio's before him and he knew it was in no small way due to the Constable's help. Welsh had never been a man to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just hoped it wouldn't come around and bite them all in the ass one day. 

Having an unarmed Mountie and his pet wolf running around the streets of Chicago gave him heartburn on the best of days. It was honestly a miracle the man hadn't been killed. That, he put down to the unwavering tenacity of his detectives who reined in as much of Fraser's reckless jumping in front of gun-wielding maniacs and out of window tendencies as he did their emotionally fraught tempers. 

****

"Ray, Ray Ray Ray RAY!" 

"What Fraser!" Ray snapped, whirling around so fast that the Mountie almost collided with him in the parking lot of the 27th precinct. 

"You weren't to know," he started mildly, knowing there was nothing he could say that would appease the detective. He hated having a case taken from him, especially by the FBI. "There was never any indication she was a member of the FBI."

Ray scowled at his partner, his friend, noticing his brown uniform unruffled in spite of the rollercoaster of a day they'd had. Not even his tie was out of place. It used to infuriate him that Fraser just never seemed fazed by all the crazy shit that happened, dirt didn't even seem to stick to him. Yet, Ray had learned to speak Benton Fraser sign language and the fiddling of the Stetson in his hands and the absent rub of his left eyebrow that knitted into a small frown as he tried to reassure his partner, him, at the risk of getting yelled at, spoke volumes. The man was just as fed up about the situation and as tired as he was. Ray flicked the toothpick in his mouth to the other side before turning his back on his partner. "Get in the car, Fraser." 

"Where are we going?"

"My place, we haven't eaten since this morning and I don't know about you but I'm starving." 

"Ah, Ray," Fraser lifted a hand to try and stop the man as he rounded the GTO to the driver's side. 

Ray stopped suddenly as he pulled out his keys and closed his eyes, he wasn't going to lose it, he wasn't, none of this was Fraser's fault, he mentally told himself. He'd forgotten in his anger that he couldn't drive with his arm injured and in a sling the way it was. Fraser hadn't forgotten though and was already by his side, gently taking the keys from his open hand, their fingers brushing lightly. "Yeah… sorry," Ray muttered, not meeting Fraser's eyes as he made his way to the passenger side.

Getting in the car he threw his partner a look as he let Diefenbaker jump into the back seat and sat down himself. "Think you'll be able to go faster than the posted speed limit Benton buddy?" 

"The speed limit is there for a reason, Ray. It really shouldn't fall onto me to accommodate other motorists' impatience." 

"Fine." Rolling his eyes, Ray sank into his seat, his head back and his eyes closed. His anger and frustration were simmering just below the surface and he didn't want to fight with his partner. "Wake me when we get there."

Fraser glanced at the man, knowing his partner well enough to understand his bad mood wasn't directed at him. "As you wish, Ray," he replied quietly, putting the GTO into gear and pulling carefully out of the parking lot. A bit of rest would do them both some good after the day's harrowing events.

****

"It's so fucked up," Ray declared with a mouthful of pizza. 

"Hm?" Fraser looked across the sofa at his partner who was slouched with his feet up on the coffee table having changed into some sweat pants and a tee-shirt. Getting changed and getting food had placated the man's temper somewhat. 

"That she killed those two men and she's supposed to be helping the good guys, stuff like that is fucked up."

"That is the nature of using undercover operatives be they criminal or otherwise which I'm certain you are more than familiar with," Fraser mused. "It isn't something I believe I could do long term," he added, thinking of his friend Ray Vecchio undercover. 

"Yeah, I didn't think I could either but then they offered me this gig," Ray continued, sliding a slice of pizza onto a piece of newspaper on the floor for Diefenbaker. "I didn't even hesitate. I was already a cop so I figured it wouldn't be that hard. Plus it was the best offer I'd had in a while what with the whole divorce." 

"I can understand why you wanted to escape your own life for a while given the circumstances. This job seems rather tame by comparison to what you could have been asked to do," Fraser agreed. He finished his slice of pizza and stifled a yawn. "I am sure Ray Vecchio has had to do terrible things to protect his cover. Murder in the name of justice, however, I am not sure there is such a thing," he frowned deeply.

Ray stole a glance at Fraser. "Yeah it's not for everyone," he frowned. "Messes you up. I got lucky with this gig." 

"I'm glad you feel that way, Ray."

Grinning a little, Ray rubbed his face tiredly. "What are we going to do about this case, Frase?" 

"Lieutenant Welsh has ordered us to drop the case, Ray, I'm not sure what else we can do."

"Fuck's sake, Fraser have you not ever wanted to say fuck orders and go after the bad guys?"

Fraser pinned Ray with an intense gaze, "Yes, Ray, it got me exiled from my home."

Ray stared at him wide-eyed, shit, "Sorry, buddy, I didn't mean--"

"--I know, Ray, it’s quite alright," he fell quiet thinking of the young man who died in his arms that morning. "I worry in this case that the young man I found this morning won't get justice. He died in my arms, Ray, I couldn't save him and I feel somewhat responsible for ensuring that justice is done."

"So…" Ray eyed Fraser warily, hoping they were on the same page. "We keep digging?"

"Perhaps passively?" Fraser suggested. 

"On the sly, I hear you," Ray nodded.

"Discreetly."

"Welsh will have our asses in a sling if he finds out."

Fraser paused for a long moment weighing up the consequences of what he was proposing. "We shall have to endeavour to be most taciturn with our investigations then to prevent such discovery."

"Huh?" 

"We'll need to be secretive, Ray."

Ray's grin widened at his partner, "Benton Fraser, I think I'm rubbing off on you," he winced at his choice of words. "You know, I mean as a bad influence," he added quickly. 

Fraser's mouth quirked into an amused smirk as Ray stumbled over the words and their double meaning. "As much as I allow, Ray, undoubtedly."

Flitting his eyes shrewdly at his partner's words, knowing for certain that Fraser had caught his slip up - there was no way he was that naive - Ray found himself wondering just how much Fraser would allow.

****

Ray awoke to the smell of coffee and sat up sharply, instantly awake if groggy. It took him a couple of moments to remember what day it was and what he'd been through the previous day. He rubbed his face with both hands. Damn, he must have been completely exhausted to be so disoriented. His shoulder hurt like a bitch and he rolled it gingerly. None of this explained why he could smell coffee. Then it came back to him, Fraser had passed out on his sofa, not long after finishing his pizza, clearly just as weary as Ray had been. Ray had coaxed him into lying on the sofa, which was surprisingly easy to do once you got the Mountie past the point of exhaustion. He had tenderly covered him with a blanket and had stolen a moment to gaze at his open peaceful face before calling it a night too. Ray figured it was corny but he liked it when Fraser let his guard down around him like that, that he was just that comfortable around him now. 

With that warm thought curling in his belly, Ray stumbled out of bed, almost tripping on his tangled sheets wrapped around his legs. He ventured to the bathroom first. He'd taken his arm out of its sling the night before. In front of the mirror, he fingered the stitches while carefully rotating his shoulder. The doctor had said he’d been very lucky, the knife had been small only two inches. Small enough that it hadn’t gone too deep, missing any vital tendons and nerves and causing minor laceration to the muscle. Popping a couple of the prescribed pain pills he gave himself a half-hearted look of approval and decided to forgo the sling. 

After doing his business and washing his face, he meandered into the kitchen and stared owlishly at his partner making breakfast. Fraser had either been up a while or he was one of those morning people. He had on his uniform but hadn't yet donned his brown tunic. When had he taken it off? The lack of it revealed a slightly rumpled dark beige shirt and navy suspenders combo and those RCMP issue straight-cut navy trousers with the yellow stripe that were delightfully snug in all the right places, unlike the ridiculous balloon ones he wore with the red serge. Ray took a few seconds to appreciate the view while Fraser's back was turned. "Hi, Frase what's all this? Ray mumbled through a yawn. 

Turning to face him, Fraser's eyes widened and he felt his face heat up at the sight of a rather fetching yet sleepy Ray with a prominent bed head greeting him, clad only in his black boxer shorts. His eyes were drawn to the black cloth as the only piece of clothing currently keeping Ray's modesty intact. He quickly averted his gaze, snapping his eyes back up to Ray's face. "Good morning, Ray. Coffee?" He gestured - eternally glad his voice did not betray him - to the freshly brewed pot. Ray's empty cup and a box of Smarties were sitting on the counter beside it. 

Ray, oblivious to Fraser's flushed cheeks as the man tried very hard not to stare at him, smiled brightly and shuffled over to the coffee pot. "Damn, Frase you can stay over more often." 

Clearing his throat and gently tugging his collar, Fraser simply hummed and allowed himself a pleased smile as he sipped his tea. "I made you toast and eggs, I am afraid you did not have much else in the way of groceries."

"Greatness," Ray sighed as he inhaled the scent of his coffee and swallowed a hot satisfying mouthful with his eyes closed. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and looked at Fraser. The man stared back at him like a deer in headlights as though he'd been caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. Ray chanced a look down at himself. "Ah shit, sorry, give me a minute," he uttered. Suddenly, he became very aware of his state of undress in front of the one man he had a raging crush on. That was not buddies but it was Kowalski's luck in a nutshell. "Will put some clothes on," he explained, avoiding Fraser's gaze self consciously. 

"Ah. Don't feel you need to on my account," Fraser started then stopped. "I mean… Ah. That is to say…" Pausing in an attempt to gather his runaway thoughts - he really did not need to be thinking of what Ray's collar bone would taste like underneath his tongue - he cracked his neck determined not to make a bigger fool out of himself than he already was. "It's nothing I haven't seen. Not that I have seen you, I mean on me, I mean I have seen me. The naked form that is of a man. I am familiar with it." Fraser closed his eyes and silently prayed to whatever gods there were to strike him down dead at that very moment. "Oh dear, that didn't come out as appropriately as I had intended. Ray. What I meant to say is if you're comfortable it's fine," Fraser knew he couldn't hide his blush now and dropped his chin to his chest in defeat and put his tea on the counter. "I was going to walk Dief anyway. Please eat while it's hot." 

Ray watched Fraser adorably babble and flounder with growing amusement and fondness in spite of his own misgivings about being mostly naked in front of him. It was like a car crash he couldn't look away from and it got the cogs turning in his head. Was Fraser flustered because he felt something similar to Ray or was he just that uncomfortable with nakedness and some Canadian notion of perceived impropriety of it? Ray hoped it was the former. "You're coming back?" he asked, thankful that his voice remained cool and casual, despite the quickening of his heartbeat. 

"I… yes, Ray, I'll be back shortly," Fraser managed to regain a modicum of composure. He backed up to the coat hook and put on his large navy coat. Still backing up as though Ray were the most dangerous being on the planet, he almost tripped over Diefenbaker on his way out of the door, receiving a yipped wolfish dressing down. Ray had pointedly held his gaze steady, smirking as he enjoyed every second of seeing Benton Fraser squirm. He half-turned when the door opened again. 

"Sorry, forgot, will be back… enjoy breakfast, Ray," Fraser grabbed his Stetson with a breathless laugh that was blatantly saying 'What unfortunate timing to lose my faculties in front of my nearly naked partner,' before turning and almost face planting into the open door. 

Ray stifled a laugh as Fraser awkwardly left, by taking another swig of his coffee. For the first time since his stupid inappropriate, definitely not buddies, feelings had developed - expressly against his wishes - his hope that they might not be quite as one-sided as he had thought, bloomed.

****

Ray contemplated the benefits of waking up earlier than his alarm and having somebody at his place who made him breakfast. It had been a long time, not since Stella. It had felt nice, once Fraser had returned after his walk and relaxed upon seeing Ray fully clothed. Ray convinced himself that Fraser's embarrassment was due to his rigid Canadian polite reserve. Anything else came with too great a risk and Ray wasn't going to risk their partnership. He would settle for his indulgent romanticised fantasies of his unfairly attractive partner, instead. 

Ray was pleased with himself as he strolled into the bullpen of the 2-7. He'd dropped Fraser off at the consulate for work and he'd acted like a mature responsible adult instead of a hormonal teenager back in his apartment. It had been a relaxed breakfast with Fraser, no awkwardness in sight. That was greatness. If that's all he could get then that would be enough. 

He twirled a pen in his fingers and sat at his desk, glancing across at the Lieutenant's office. The door was closed and the blinds were shuttered which meant he was in a meeting and didn't want to be disturbed. Ray suspected it was the feds looking to screw them over again and scowled. The case files Welsh had given them were still piled up in front of him. There wouldn't be any harm in going over them again before the feds got their grubby paws on them. Something didn't sit right about their case and that Meredith woman. He was sure she was bad news. Maybe she was just that good at pretending but Ray's instincts were telling him otherwise. After fifteen years on the force, you learned to trust your gut. That was unless you were Fraser who preferred logic. 

He grinned to himself, recalling the time when Fraser had called him 'Mr. Instinct'. That impassive Mountie mask had slipped and Fraser had been on pissy and sarcastic top form with him but it had been Ray's instincts that had saved them at the end of that day. Or rather it had been Fraser trusting Ray's instincts that had saved the day. 

Frustratingly, the files gave him no more information. The bodies had been dumped either at night or before dawn. Parks and isolated locations, no witnesses, no prints, no blood, or physical evidence of any kind. A few of the attached autopsy reports had revealed that many of the victims had been sexually assaulted and that a benzodiazepine hypnotic drug had still been present in their systems, called Flunitrazepam. Ray knew it better as Rohypnol, the date rape drug. He'd worked a few rape cases in the past to become familiar with its usage and glowered in disgust at the implications of its use in these cases. There was more than just rape, kill, and dump to these cases, especially on this scale. Something much more sinister was going on, right under their noses.

"Vecchio?" Welsh barked across the bullpen the moment his door opened. 

"Sir?"

"The Constable not with you?"

"He's at his actual work, Lieu. At the consulate."

"Huh," Welsh blinked. "What is it that he does there again?" 

Ray shrugged, "Play toy soldier, sign forms, be the ice queen's personal slave?" 

The Lieutenant ducked back into his office leaving Ray staring after him in confusion. When Welsh reappeared he had his coat and was followed by the two feds from yesterday. "With me, Detective, we have business in Canada."

"We do?" Ray got up and followed immediately, ignoring the FBI. "Why can't we just call?" 

Lieutenant Welsh did not look happy, "We do now."

"Need to know," agent Wallis interrupted tersely. 

Ray bristled a fist-clenching by his side and glared at the man. If this involved Fraser, his partner, no matter how unofficial his liaison was, then he needed to know.

Ray had a bad feeling about this and threw a scowl at the agents walking behind them.

****

The four men could hear voices inside the consulate when they knocked on the door. 

"Turnbull, could you get that?" 

"Yes, Sir one moment, I have a soufflé related emergency."

"Soufflé?" Fraser's voice cut off before he was heard telling the other constable to forget it in polite Canadian parlance. Ray grinned knowing how Turnbull was probably the one man Fraser could actually lose patience with. For a freak, he had a surprisingly low tolerance for the other man's eccentricities. To Ray it made Fraser seem that little bit more human that he got aggravated at weirdness just like the rest of them.

The door swung open, "Lieutenant, Agents, Ray, good morning, welcome to Canada. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" 

Ray noticed that Fraser had changed into his familiar red Serge and allowed himself an indulgent once over of the man, without making it obvious. As ridiculous as the outfit seemed to most, Fraser was nothing if not eye-catching in it, tempering the brightness of the red and silly balloon pants with the dignity and composure that Fraser exuded at all times. To Ray, it was sexy as all hell and it took all of his willpower to look away as he stepped into Fraser's space and continued into the consulate like he belonged there. 

"May we come in, Constable?" Welsh asked his tone not really asking. 

Fraser stepped back and allowed them inside. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to remove your weapons," he declared. 

The FBI agents shared an uneasy glance. 

"It is the law while you’re in Canada."

"We're not in Canada," Agent Jones bit out. "And we don't have time for this."

"Then I regret that I must ask you to leave," Fraser replied evenly, his face impassive. 

Ray for one was loving every minute of his partner's passive aggression and handed him his gun with a wink. He didn't expect a response but saw the twitch of a knowing smile flicker at him beneath that Mountie mask. 

"Is this guy for real?" Agent Wallis pulled a face. 

Welsh regarded the man coolly, "You want his help I suggest you do what he says." 

Fraser canted his head at that and raised his eyebrows inquiringly at Ray who shrugged helplessly. 

The FBI agents acquiesced and gave up their weapons which Fraser then insisted on filling out the paperwork for, much to their displeasure. Finally, Fraser regarded the men with a perfectly placid smile. "So what can I do for you this morning, gentlemen? The Inspector is at a conference if you needed to meet with her." 

"Actually constable," agent Wallis began. "This has more to do with you. We can follow up with your superior once we've discussed our proposal." 

"Proposal?" 

Turnbull popped his head out of the kitchen area before Fraser could get any clarification. "Constable Fraser, Sir, would these fine gentlemen like some beverages?" 

The men shook their heads, the FBI agents growing tenser by the minute. "Constable, time is of the essence here, can we take this to your office?"

"Ah." Fraser apologetically ducked his head and Ray rolled his eyes. "That would be a rather tight squeeze, perhaps the Inspector's office will suffice." 

"That's fine."

"If you'll follow me," Fraser looked at Turnbull. "See that we're not disturbed, Constable."

"Right you are, Sir," Turnbull tapped the side of his nose and gave Fraser a knowing look. "You're not even here."

Opening his mouth to correct the man, Fraser closed his eyes, then his mouth gave a minute shake of his head and thought better of it as he closed the door to the office. 

Once he had the constable's full attention Agent Jones got straight to the point. " The case you were liaising with Detective Vecchio, the body dumps, has taken a turn. One of our informants, a man working for the Canadian government under our direction has been…recently indisposed," he and Agent Wallis shared a cagey glance and Fraser narrowed his eyes at them while he listened. "We need someone to take his place." 

Brow creasing slightly, Fraser touched his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "I fail to see what any of that has to do with me." 

"Our man is known by some of the associates we are hoping to nail in this case," Wallis added. "It can't just be another agent. We need someone to pass as him."

"A Canadian you mean?" Fraser waited expectantly for the point. He had a feeling he knew where this was going but was still confused as to why. "Won't the agency he's working for send a replacement?" 

Agent Jones handed Fraser a file. "We need someone to  _ be _ him," he clarified. 

Opening the file, Fraser's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh." 

Ray frowned and came to stand beside his partner, peering at the file. "Holy shit, Frase!" he exclaimed. "Do you have a twin brother you've been holding out on us or is Canada just cloning you now?" 

"Not that I'm aware of," Fraser replied in quiet astonishment. The image of the man bore a distinct resemblance to him. His hair was a deliberately tousled, dark curly mess on the top of his slightly thinner face. He had more prominent shadows beneath the eyes and a subtly more prominent jaw covered with a five o clock shadow but even Fraser couldn't deny the likeness. 

"Looks like any other Canadian. Hasn't got your mouth or nose or your eyes," Ray commented defiantly, backpedaling from his earlier surprise, not liking that the FBI had blindsided them with this. Undercover was rarely fun. He had lucked out with this job but on the whole taking someone else's identity sucked. He didn't want that for Fraser. Especially not when it involved so many unidentified murder victims.

Glancing at his partner and raising a singular eyebrow, Fraser pinned him with an 'I know you're being deliberately obtuse, I just haven't figured out why yet,' look. "Ray."

Fraser's tone was both chastising and bemused so Ray just shrugged. "What? Don't let them strong-arm you into anything Fraser. Just because you look similar to a guy they need doesn't mean you have to agree to anything," he cast a dark scowl in the agents' direction.

"I quite agree," Welsh added before the FBI could pick a fight with his detective. "Let's hear all the facts of this situation before you make any rash decisions, Constable. First being, how the hell is your man indisposed? You make a habit of losing your agents in the field?" 

The FBI bristled at the insinuation while Ray's scowl morphed into a wolfish grin. Fraser might not be an official member of the CPD but Lieutenant Welsh treated him as one of his own regardless.

"That would be prudent to know," Fraser stated absently, his gaze unreadable as he perused the man's file. 

"He was shot last night in an unrelated incident with the Canadian mob on the other side of the border," agent Jones explained. "He's currently lying in a hospital as a John Doe to protect the cover so we can continue with the operation."

"I see." 

Ray had heard Fraser's 'I see,' before. The Mountie wasn't buying it. 

"You're quite sure it was unrelated?" 

Wallis' mouth twisted. "What are you implying?"

"Not implying, hypothesising," Fraser rubbed an eyebrow, his forehead creasing a little in thought. "It could be nothing more than a case of terribly inconvenient timing on the part of the mob or something more deliberate. I only suggest this based on the urgency you have implied in discussing this with me, indicating that whatever operation this man was scheduled to carry out, it is happening soon and was pivotal to your entire case. I would go so far as to surmise that without him and whatever contacts and position he has gleaned, and do please correct me if I am mistaken, you will be set back months of investigative work that you nor the victims of this illicit operation can ill afford." 

Ray shared a smirk with the Lieutenant who just raised his brow at him as the agents floundered somewhat. That took the wind out of their sails. When he wanted to be, Fraser could be pretty cutthroat with that polite Canadian parlance.

"Yeah uh… that that about covers it," Jones uttered, taken aback by the man's deductive reasoning skills. They could use a man like this Mountie in the Bureau. 

Fraser wasn't finished and looked up from the man's file, "What happened to Mr. Connor?"

"A shoot out, he was hit three times, he's not expected to survive," Wallis detailed grimly. 

"Body isn't even cold and you want Fraser to jump in his skin? You sick bastards," Ray snarled out with more venom than he'd intended. 

"Ray," Fraser admonished his partner lightly, momentarily resting a hand on his arm. "What does the operation entail? I assume smuggling of some description given the cross border investigation. Drugs? Weapons?"

"Frase you can't be serious?" 

"I'm always serious when it comes to the facts of a case, Ray." Accepting the files from agent Jones, Fraser stepped away from Ray and spread them out over Inspector Thatcher's desk. 

Ray pulled a face, knowing a Fraserly brush off when he heard one. He paced the room, agitated. 

"Hm," he looked up at the waiting FBI agents. "This is human trafficking," he stated somberly. "You want me to meet with the supplier in Canada and bring a truck of suspected kidnapping victims across the border to be delivered into the hands of the McKinley mob family to be sold at an underground auction? An auction of people whom by your agent's understanding and I quote, ‘Have been medicated so heavily they no longer know their own names’?" 

The two FBI agents nodded. "That is exactly what we want you to do. We suspect they are also using the victims to mule their drugs across the border. Some of the bodies found had OD'd because the product had ruptured before they could reach their destination." 

Irritation evident in his normally impassive countenance, Fraser narrowed his eyes at the two men, "Forgive me for asking this, but are you out of your damn minds?"

Ray let out a short "ha" in satisfaction and no small amount of relief while Welsh whistled silently at Fraser's shocked and appalled outburst. The Mountie was pissed.

"You can't use these people and send them off to their fate. That isn't justice. If they reach auction they will be bartered for, bought, used, raped and discarded in a sickening display of money and power. To exploit them like this makes you no better than they are! You must find another way." 

"Have you not heard of the Chinese proverb that to kill the snake you must first cut off its head, Constable?" Wallis regarded him coolly. 

"It's an Akan proverb actually," Fraser corrected tersely and ducked his head with a sigh. Rubbing his eyebrow, his tongue darting over his lower lip, he continued, "Meaning you must finish the job once begun, not do it by halves." 

"Exactly what we're trying to do. Getting eyes in this auction gives us a witness of the upper echelons of the McKinley family. We get evidence of their involvement, we nail them to the wall and the whole organisation crumbles." 

Fraser kept his head bowed, his jaw clenching with restrained anger, his low voice cold as he spoke, "But I was like a gentle lamb led to the slaughter; And I did not know that they had devised plots against me, saying, ‘Let us destroy the tree with its fruit, And let us cut him off from the land of the living, That his name be remembered no more.’"

"Fraser?" Ray prompted gently. He recognised the words but couldn't place them. Whenever Fraser spoke in riddles or told his Inuit stories though, Ray knew he was saying everything by not saying anything. 

"The Bible, Ray. Book of Jeremiah, chapter eleven, verse nineteen," Fraser glanced briefly at Ray. "It is said that Jeremiah represents Jesus brought to slaughter through wrongful accusations and while the situation does differ somewhat it highlights the betrayal to innocence," he explained, pinning the agents with a cold steely gaze.

Wallis sighed and looked at his partner, "Needs of the many, Constable. Try to see the bigger picture here. We can help stop this from happening to anyone else."

Jones handed Fraser another file. 

Opening the file a sharp intake of breath betrayed him. The smiling face staring back at him was familiar and strange. He was full of life and hope and colour. Not the ghost-like, gaunt, frightened boy dying in a stranger's arms in a cold sodden park. 

"Zachary Lensworth, the boy you tried to save," agent Jones supplied. "He was 18, disappeared on the way home from college in Toronto, two months ago." 

That was the last straw. Ray was across the room and in the FBI agents' faces, slender fingers jabbing angrily at them. "You think you can guilt him into doing this? That's crap and you know it! He doesn't have to do shit for you! You took my case to cover your own ass and now you need my partner to pull your sorry asses out of the fire. Well let me tell you where you can shove that--" 

"--Detective," Welsh barked out a warning. "May I remind you that it is the constable's decision," he added more gently. He was not unsympathetic. 

"Sir, it stinks, it's bullshit."

"If you've got a problem with the constable making his own decisions, detective, you know where the door is, nobody asked you here!" Wallis snapped back. 

Ray whirled around and grabbed the bigger man by the lapel of his blazer getting right in his face, his anger palpable, "I'm about to be your face's problem if you don't shut your mouth." 

"Ray," Fraser warned.

Wallis grabbed him right back. The two men came to blows before Agent Jones and Lieutenant Welsh dragged them back.

Ray practically snarled at the other man, all of his furtive energy now channeled into trying to stop the FBI from strong-arming his bleeding heart Mountie into infiltrating the mob. They would eat Fraser alive. "He's my partner and I won't have you guilting him into a job that could get him killed just like your other guy!"

"Ray!" 

"He's not just some tool that you can pluck out and put in front of the mob. You couldn't take care of your assets and now you're short one Canadian because you fucked up!" 

"RAY!" 

"I'm not having it, Fraser!" Ray tore himself free of Welsh and took to pacing behind the lieutenant like a caged animal. He rubbed at his injured shoulder absently, ignoring the flare of pain. 

Chest heaving, Wallis massaged his jaw where the detective's fast punch had caught him. "Constable, your decision?" he demanded hotly. 

Shaking his head with a frown, Fraser touched his teeth with his tongue and looked back down at the file in his hands. "I need some time."

"We don't have time!" Wallis erupted.

Fraser held up his hand, stopping the man before his vehement rant gathered steam. "You'll have my decision within the hour." 

Pressing his lips together, Wallis gave him a sharp nod and swept from the room with Agent Jones. 

Lieutenant Welsh huffed and rolled his eyes. "Detective, that's our cue." 

"I just need a minute, Sir." 

Welsh half-turned and looked between the two men who seemed to be having some intense silent conversation with only their eyes. It was too early in the morning and he was running low on caffeine. "Five minutes," he closed the door behind him. 

"Ray…"

"Fraser," Ray stepped closer to the desk. "You can't let them man… man pirate you like this."

"Manipulate."

"S'what I said," Ray held his partner's gaze. "This is the mob Fraser. Don't you remember what happened the last time you took on the mob?" 

"I haven't forgotten, Ray."

"So you remember getting beaten to a bloody pulp and left in the street to bleed then?" Ray could feel his frustration building once more. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Fraser and could see the decision already being made all over his tortured beautiful face and in those storm blue eyes, swimming with duty and guilt. "Because I do, Fraser. I found you like that, remember?"

"I remember, " came the subdued reply.

"Can't ever fucking forget how you could have been killed and I wasn't--" Ray stopped himself and finally dropped his gaze. "Warfield was a small fish compared to these guys, Frase."

"I am aware of that, Ray, I'm not blind to the risk involved."

"That's all you're ever blind to, Fraser!" Ray exploded. "You never stop and think. You're constantly jumping off buildings, through windows, standing in front guns like you're fucking invisible and you're not!"

"Ray, I think you mean invincible."

Pointing an angry finger at his partner, Ray glared. "Do not do that right now, Fraser. You know damn well what I meant!" 

"Understood." 

Ray ran his hands through his spiked hair. "God Fraser, this is not just a quick undercover stint."

"I know, Ray."

"This could be for weeks, playing at being someone else."

"Ray, may I remind you that I am an experienced police officer and have some understanding of undercover work," Fraser retorted dryly. 

Ray pushed on anyway, he desperately needed Fraser to understand, to change his mind. "Someone who is transporting  _ people _ , Fraser which you already freaked out about. They're going to see right through you!"

Fraser rolled his eyes at that, "A little more faith in my abilities would be appreciated, Ray." 

"Faith in your abilities? What? Are you kidding me with that shit, Fraser?" Ray could feel his frustration bubbling up to the surface. "I have nothing but faith in your abilities, do you see anybody else chasing you over rooftops or into wildly bizarre dangerous situations? Huh? No. You don't. Just this idiot," he pointed at himself. 

"But I know you, Fraser. You cannot stand to see injustice, it eats at you. You have this obsessive need to save everyone damn the consequences! One look at those people and you won't be able to help yourself. You'll try to save them and the mob will kill you for it. You will die! Pointlessly!" Ray spat out vehemently. 

"And I can't…." He stopped himself and turned away, surprised to find his hands trembling. "I won't be the idiot that stands there and lets that happen." 

"You're not an idiot, Ray," Fraser uttered softly. 

Ray closed his eyes as his heart sank, already hearing the regret in Fraser's smooth voice. 

"If I can help prevent this from happening to other people and stop this awful trafficking… I don't think even you believe that is a pointless reason." 

"You have no idea who you're dealing with!" Ray yelled. "God, you're so naive!" 

"I'm naive?" Fraser retorted defensively. "Do you honestly think this mob family will stop here? They're kidnapping people, Ray. Killing them, dumping them on the streets. You really think you can ignore it and it will just go away? Don't you want to stop them?"

"Of course I want to stop them!" Ray turned to glare at his partner. "But why does it have to be you, Fraser? Why is it always you?"

"I didn't ask for this, Ray." Fraser countered with exasperation, he couldn't understand why Ray was getting so upset. This was their job. "How can you ask me to turn away?" 

"Because I can't stand by and watch you get killed. I can't keep watching you deliberately put yourself in harm's way with no regard for what it does to me!" 

Fraser's eyes widened in surprise at that. "Does to  _ you _ ?" 

"I'm your partner, Fraser. You telling me you wouldn't care if I were the one in danger?" Ray backtracked rapidly. 

"Of course I would," Fraser snapped affronted. "But I wouldn't stop you from doing your job out of fear because I trust you and your abilities, Ray."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you," Ray let out a disbelieving laugh. He shook his head and stared at Fraser intently. "It took us almost drowning on a fucking ship before you would trust me, you fucking hypo… hypno…hypocant…"

"Hypocrite, Ray." 

"Fuck you, Fraser." Ray couldn't look at the man, could not bear to see the hurt he knew would be on that face. "You might not care but I do, far too fucking much. And I can't… I can't keep doing it, Fraser, it's too hard!" Ray's chest heaved and cold dread filled his chest. "So do what you gotta do. I'm out." 

"Ray, wait," Fraser called out urgently, rounding the desk and chasing his partner out of the office. "Ray!" He stopped when the door to the consulate slammed shut with a bang. With a sigh, he dropped his chin to his chest and ran a hand through his hair at a loss for what to do. 

Diefenbaker cocked his head at him and let out a grumbling whine. 

"Oh, like you would have--" Fraser bit his lip when the wolf interrupted him with a sharp bark. 

"Well, be my guest," he gestured to the door. "I'm not stopping you."

Whining, Diefenbaker got up and walked away from Fraser, disappearing into another room.

Head bowed, Fraser muttered under his breath, "Ingrate."

"Tea, Sir?" Turnbull offered tentatively. 

Raising his head, Fraser let out another weary sigh. "Yes, Turnbull, tea would be very welcome, thank you kindly." 

"Of course," the other constable gave him an understanding smile before disappearing back into the kitchen. It only made Fraser feel worse. 

****

"You're woolgathering."

Fraser looked up at his father's voice and scowled. "I was not."

"You were too." Robert pointed at his son looking almost amused. "You get this little line between your eyebrows, you look like your mother."

Fraser's gaze softened in surprise, "What?" 

Robert Fraser smiled warmly, "She would do the same thing. Especially when she was mad at me." 

"I'm not mad." Fraser sighed and pinched his nose bridge. 

"The Yank is, though. That's who you were thinking about wasn't it?"

"Ray. His name is Ray, would it kill you to use his name?"

"Well that would be silly son," Robert looked confused. "I'm already dead." 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Fraser pinned his father with a stern glare. "Was there a point to this visit?" 

"What, a father needs a reason to visit his son now?" 

Raising an eyebrow, Fraser just looked at his father incredulously. 

"Oh, alright fine," his father conceded. "You looked like you needed some advice. I thought I could help." 

"So you did a lot of undercover work out in the Territories then?" Fraser asked sardonically. 

"No need for sarcasm, son," Robert held up his hand. "I was talking about your partnership with the Ya--uh with Ray is it?" 

Fraser shook his head wearily, not wanting to think about how Ray's words had sounded so final, "Dad, now really isn't the time."

"On the contrary, son, a policeman is only as good as the man he's partnered with and if he doesn't trust that man, well he might as well hang up his boots. Either that or get killed in the line of duty." 

"What are you blathering on about? I trust Ray," Fraser countered. 

"Ah, only to a point, Son -- don't deny it -- and you sure as hell don't make it easy for him to trust you." 

Frowning, Fraser avoided his father's gaze. "Ray trusts me fine, I've given him no reason to doubt that he can rely on me at any time."

"To have his back, sure, there's no man he'd rather have if the Yank has any sense," Robert regarded his son with sympathy. "But trusting you not to jump headfirst into the jaws of death, Son?" He shook his head. "Reliance on one's partner, putting your life in their hands and trusting they won't drop you, that takes courage, Son and you worked alone for so long before this Ray came along." 

"So you're saying I lack courage now?" Fraser snapped. 

"I'm saying letting another man take control of a situation isn't easy, son. Nobody would blame you. Why it took years for me and Buck to really come to rely on each other, to know without a doubt that in a crunch he'd be there for me and me for him." 

"Ray and I trust each other," Fraser insisted, tugging on his ear. "We have no problems relinquishing control of any given situation to one another. As Ray so often states, we are a duet."

"Ah."

Pulling a face, Fraser glared at the apparition of his father and wondered - not for the first time - if he were not in fact insane. "’Ah’ what?" 

Robert shrugged, "Well you know your partner, Son. If you say you trust each other, who am I to question it?"

"Don't do that. You clearly have something to say, so just say it."

"Oh, it's nothing, son, don't worry about it, an old man's musings." 

"Dad!" 

"I just don't remember ever being afraid Buck would get himself killed by running into a dangerous situation unarmed. If I had to watch my partner, my best friend, die because I couldn't stop him doing something reckless like that, it would have killed me. Can't trust a man who cares less about himself than he does about you. That's not a partnership, son. That kind of fear erodes trust, eats away at it until there's nothing left but resentment or a dead body. Usually both." 

Fraser stared open-mouthed at his father as though the man had just slapped him in the face. Slowly he closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands as the weight of how unforgivably selfish and pig-headed he'd been threatened to crush him. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself alone.

****

Almost an hour after he had stormed out of the consulate, cursing having a Mountie Boy Scout for a partner, his temper and the feds (mostly the feds), Ray glanced up from one of his many case files when he heard Frannie cooing over Fraser. He caught a flash of red and heard the familiar click of a wolf's claws on the hard floor. He looked down again quickly, stubbornly not wanting to engage with his partner. He was still angry at him dammit and Fraser just had a way of preventing you from being mad at him for long with those sad Mountie eyes of his. 

Without lifting his head he tracked the approaching man with his eyes, expecting Fraser to come straight to his desk. He couldn't quell the rising anxiety when Fraser entered the bullpen and marched steadfastly for Welsh's office, where the Lieutenant and the feds had been holed up since they'd gotten back. Not once did he cast a look in Ray's direction before knocking on the Lieutenant's door politely and entering as though he were expected. Knowing Fraser he had called ahead. Shit, that could only mean one thing. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ray hated himself even more at that moment. His fight with Fraser had probably pushed him into helping the feds. Having his partner doubting his own abilities had likely made the Mountie even more determined to prove himself. 

It wasn't that Ray didn't think Fraser was capable. He was probably the most competent man he had ever known. Hell, it was one of the many things that he found attractive about him. What bothered Ray was the thought that he wouldn't be able to protect his partner, have his back. He sure as hell didn't trust the feds to do it. Fraser was a brilliant cop, but he had a knack for putting himself in harm's way, especially when there were people that needed his help or injustices to correct. Having a partner by his side tempered some of that rashness and Ray would not be able to live with himself if he let Fraser go off and do something stupid like get himself shot to death by the mob. 

Ray knew that Fraser held deep-seated insecurities just like the rest of them, he simply hid them better than most. He was always hiding behind Inuit stories and ten-dollar words. Yet, in his frustration and fear Ray had been a coward. The thought of losing Fraser had made his chest constrict so tightly that he couldn't breathe and instead of telling Fraser the truth, that he was scared for him, of losing him, he had underhandedly played on those insecurities. He hadn't meant to. He merely wanted Fraser to understand, see it from Ray's perspective and now he'd forced him into doing exactly what Ray had wanted to avoid. 

Dejected, Ray dropped his pen onto his desk and ran both hands through his hair, closing his eyes. Fuck. He was such a moron. He turned his head when he felt Dief's cold damp nose on the back of his hand. "I screwed up Furface," he muttered, ruffling the wolf's scruff. "I'm sorry." 

Diefenbaker cocked his head at him, whined, and licked his face affectionately.

"Detective," Welsh called out from his half-open door. 

Ray sat up and frowned when the Lieutenant gestured for him to join them in his office. Swallowing nervously, he took a deep breath and went to face the music.

****

Ray went to stand to the right of Welsh's desk by the sofa in his office, this way he could keep an eye on Welsh, the Feds and Fraser as they discussed the next step. He chewed nervously on a toothpick, stealing a glance at his partner. Fraser was standing almost at attention; he was so stiff, his Stetson tucked under his arm, his hands clasped in front of him, holding the case file, his gaze focused on Welsh, giving nothing away. Ray hated it, hated himself for putting the rift between them in the first place. 

"Constable, you were explaining the conditions of your decision to us," Welsh prompted. 

"Yes, of course, Lieutenant, as I was saying, I have decided to assist in the federal investigation with certain non-negotiable conditions."

"This isn't a contract negotiation," Wallis interjected hotly. "You don't get to name terms of an undercover job."

"Does if it's his ass in a sling when you mess up," Ray countered with a snarl. 

Wallis squared up to Ray, who grinned at him defiantly, "I've had just about enough of your--"

Welsh held up his hand before the men started arguing. "Gentlemen, if we could hear the constable out before we jump down each other's throats." 

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Fraser shifted his stance ever so slightly. 

Ray noticed Fraser's subtle glance and grateful nod in his direction too and his mouth twitched into a faint smirk. Fight or no fight, Fraser knew Ray had his back.

"My condition is simply this, the FBI works with the 27th Precinct of the Chicago Police department on this particular undercover operation." 

Wallis spluttered, "You have got to be kidding me! No way!"

"No?" Fraser pinned the agent with a steely gaze. 

"No! Out of the question!"

"Ah."

"’Ah’? What the hell does ‘ah’ mean?" 

Ray full on smirked at his outrage. When Fraser's 'ah' wasn't directed at him it was great to watch the drama unfold.

"It means, I wish you every success in your investigation," Fraser continued calmly and held out the case file to Agent Wallis. "Which you will have to complete without my assistance."

"This is our case! A federal investigation! We can't just have the CPD running it!" He protested. 

Agent Jones placed a hand on his partner's arm, "Perhaps there is a workaround," he suggested mildly.

Wallis chewed on his lip like it was the only thing reining in his temper, "Like what?" 

"Like a liaison," Fraser proposed. "As I liaise primarily with the CPD and have actively participated in a number of cases as Detective Vecchio's partner. I see no reason why that liaison should cease simply because I am undercover on a federal investigation. Much to the contrary in fact, I would feel more comfortable and focused in my duty were I to know that the CPD were on this case and held my welfare as a priority."

Ducking his head to hide his smile, Ray shifted to perch on the edge of Welsh's desk and folded his arms over his chest. A piece of the puzzle he didn't realise he had been trying to solve, slotted into place. Fraser wanted him watching his back, needed him there in order to effectively carry out his duty. This wasn't about taking a stupid reckless risk, this was about doing the right thing and needing his partner by his side. He couldn't quite believe the proud, independent Mountie had openly admitted as much in front of the Lieutenant and two FBI agents. Ray hadn't realised how much he had needed to hear it too. 

"What the hell are you implying, Constable?" Wallis spat out. "That I don't care about my agents?"

"Sure doesn't look that way from where I'm standing," Ray muttered. 

"Did anybody ask you, Detective?" Wallis pointed an angry finger at him. "I refuse to work with this punk." He glared at Lieutenant Welsh. 

"This is Constable Fraser's plan, I think it's up to him who he feels comfortable working with," Welsh replied blandly. 

Fraser cracked his neck and chanced a look at Ray who was being uncharacteristically subdued. "Well, I am partnered with Detective Vecchio, but if he were uncomfortable doing this assignment for whatever reason then I would feel just as assured if Detectives Huey or Dewey were on the case." 

Ray looked up sharply at that and his eyes locked with Fraser's hopeful blues. "What? No, I'm fine," he shrugged. "I can handle it."

Fraser ran a finger along the inside of his collar, "I was more concerned with you having to observe while I was placed into a dangerous situation. If it is too unsettling then I--"

"--No, Fraser." Ray snapped. "No way I'm being benched from this. I'm not trusting the chuckle brothers to watch your back," he looked at Welsh. "If anyone is watching Fraser's back and has his welfare at top of their priorities it's me. I'm his partner." 

Fraser's eyes widened at Ray's firm insistence and smiled a little at his concern.

Ray could see the relief in Fraser and frowned a little. He was still angry at being put into such an uncomfortable situation but he would not abandon his partner, his best friend. It was a little insulting that Fraser had thought he might. 

Welsh nodded his approval. "You'll get no argument from me."

"You can't be serious!" Wallis fumed. "He's more likely to get the constable killed. He's already made it clear how he feels about the man being undercover, I can't trust him to be objective." 

Ray's cheeks burned at that but couldn't deny how badly he had wanted Fraser to refuse to help. He could feel Fraser watching him but kept his eyes on the Lieutenant, Fraser was a whole messy knot he didn't have the mental capacity to untangle right now. "Yeah well," he kept his tone casual as he shrugged. "I had some time to think about it. And if I'm the one watching my partner's ass, we're good. If Fraser pulls any stupid hero shit, I'll shoot him myself." 

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Ray in surprise. Fraser's eyebrows practically shot up into his hairline and Welsh simply grinned. 

"I expect nothing less, Detective. Agent Wallis, they're two of my best men. You'll be hard-pressed to find a better offer at such short notice. You want Constable Fraser to do this, you bring me and Detective Vecchio up to speed and if I'm satisfied, and that's a big if, I'll allow him to go ahead with it." 

"You'll allow him?" Wallis frowned in confused irritation. "I thought he worked for the Canadian consulate?" 

Welsh didn't skip a beat, his eyes fixed on agent Wallis, "Constable, consider yourself deputised."

"Thank you kindly, Lieutenant." 

****


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fraser goes undercover. Ray frets.

I will fight, I will fight for you, I always do until my heart Is black and blue

And I will stay, I will stay with you

We'll make it to the other side, Like lovers do

I'll reach my hands out in the dark

And wait for yours to interlock

I'll wait for you, I'll wait for you

****

"You want me to wear what?" 

Ray's curiosity was instantly piqued by the indignant squeak of Fraser's voice coming from the Lieutenant's office and he ventured a peek inside. 

"No, absolutely not." 

Welsh gestured for Ray to come in, his amusement written all over his face. "Perhaps you could help, Detective," he murmured into Ray's ear.

Fraser was staring down at something in his hands, listing all of the reasons why it would not be appropriate and he was a respectable member of the RCMP so could not possibly endorse recreational drug use and what on Earth did a respectable symbol of Canada have anything to do with all that? Wallis, meanwhile, was rubbing his temples looking like he was counting the hours until early retirement.

Ray stood beside Welsh, keeping his voice low. "What's going on?" he asked quietly. 

Welsh leaned closer. "Apparently, Agent Connor has a tattoo on his chest. The FBI have made a temporary composite that they want the good constable to wear."

Ray couldn't help but snicker. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"It's not the idea of a tattoo that Fraser is objecting too, it's the imagery of this specific tattoo and what it symbolises," Welsh explained dryly. 

Ray was beyond curious now and moved over to Fraser to peer at the image in his hand. He let out a snort at the half Canadian maple leaf and half cannabis leaf image and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the sofa. Watching Fraser argue should be Pay Per View when he wasn't involved and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to see Wallis and Fraser go at it. 

"Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?" 

"Yes." Agent Wallis' patience was wearing thin. "It isn't permanent, it will come off eventually." 

Fraser's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Eventually?" 

"It won't wash off, Frase, it'll just fade over time, a couple of weeks tops. No big deal and it'll help with your cover," Ray offered unhelpfully. 

Fraser shot a stern look at his very amused partner who was lounging on Welsh's sofa, looking through the FBI files of this undercover op. 

"I really don't see where there will be a requirement for me to be shirtless, Ray. I would in fact go so far as to say this is entirely superfluous. I can assure you, Agent Wallis, my clothes will remain firmly on my person."

"Shame," Ray muttered covering it with a cough and ignoring the Mountie’s glare. He was smirking like an idiot and he knew it. While he didn't much care for the thought of Fraser needing to get in any way undressed during the course of this operation, the idea of shirtless Fraser was an image he was going to indulge in right now thank you kindly. "I can help apply it if you like?"

"Ray, you're not helping."

"Sure I am, I’m providing uh… moral support," he gave Fraser a wolfish smile. "It'll be fine." He pointed a more serious finger at his partner. "Think of how dumb you'll feel if something happens where you do need to take your top off," he held Fraser's glare with a cheeky smile. "You going to make me say I told you so?" 

"I think at this juncture you're bound to say that regardless." Fraser let out an exasperated sigh.

Getting up, Ray took the temporary tattoo from Fraser's hands. "Let me help. I'll be gentle." He teased and waved a hand at his uniform, smiling while watching a red flush creep up Fraser's neck. "Pitter-patter Frase, unless you'd rather Wallis do it?" 

That did it. "Oh, for God's sake!" Fraser snapped and began efficiently removing his Sam Brown. 

Ray's grin just widened at Fraser being snippy. He opened his mouth to push the merits of a good cover but was unexpectedly and entirely distracted by the sight of Fraser proceeding to angrily strip off his tunic right in the middle of Welsh's office. 

Welsh cleared his throat. "Detective, you seem to have your hands full, I'll leave you to uh," he gestured at Fraser who chose that moment to shrug out of his Serge, place it on his desk and then hook his thumbs under his suspenders. He shook his head and held the door open for Wallis who annoyingly stayed put. Probably to make sure Ray didn't try to talk Fraser out of helping again.

"I remember when this was a police station and we got actual police work done," Welsh grumbled, closing the door behind him, giving them some privacy.

Ray's brain could only process two whole thoughts as he watched Fraser pull his Henley over his head. One, he was going to get an eyeful of shirtless Fraser in like two seconds flat which he smugly thought; hot damn yes! And two, Fraser had agreed with him, trusted his opinion that this needed to be done, even if he was annoyed about it. Ray wasn't entirely sure which, at that point, turned him on more. 

Though if he were being completely honest, the fact that he was going to be touching Fraser's bare chest in less than a minute, with his bare hands no less, kinda blew the first two out of the water. Ray was pretty certain fireworks were going off somewhere in his head. Now if Agent Wallis could just keel over or suddenly burst into flames and leave them the hell alone, that would be absolute greatness. 

Fraser cleared his throat and stood awkwardly at parade rest, his bare chest practically glowing in the office lighting. Ray tried not to stare and instead looked at Fraser’s face, finding that his eyes were looking anywhere but at him. Ray had a fleeting thought that maybe Fraser would’ve been more comfortable with Wallis applying it rather than him, but it was too late now. He peeled off the protective backing of the tattoo. “Ready?” 

Fraser’s eyes did flick down to meet Ray’s gaze then and Ray detected a flicker of nerves in the dilation of Fraser’s pupils before he looked away again, resigned. “Yes, I...please just get on with it, Ray.” 

Fraser was still pissy then. Ray frowned, he hadn’t wanted Fraser to feel uncomfortable, not with him. ‘Okay, Kowalski, you can do this, do not think about touching your half-naked, fucking wet dream of a partner, just do the job. Think about Dief licking his own balls or Fraser licking something off the floor or maybe not Fraser licking anything, especially not you damnit! Huey in a tutu, yep that’ll do, think about that.’ He told himself firmly. 

Looking at the photo of Connor he lined up the tattoo. Then, slowly and carefully he pressed the image onto Fraser’s bare skin. His fingers moved slowly over the image smoothing it out and he couldn’t help a small smirk when Fraser’s breath stalled and his body tensed beneath his fingers. His chest was firm, muscular and smooth and so, _ so _ hot under his fingertips. 

Ray wondered if the rest of him was just as smooth and as firm and felt his own face flush at that thought. No, no he couldn’t start thinking about that now, his dick was starting to pay attention and Ray wanted anything but that right then. He wished to God that Wallis had left them alone. Breathing deeply, he thought about cold showers, Turnbull, Welsh naked, Dewey’s distinctive smell -- that one did it. Ray felt like he should get a medal for not getting hard and scaring Fraser back to fucking Canada. It had taken a monumental effort on his part, not that he could tell anybody about it.

With no small amount of relief, Ray focused on his hands and on that one part of Fraser he was actually getting to touch. When he was sure he’d gotten all the air bubbles out, he pressed his palm flat against the tattoo, firmly against Fraser’s chest and then carefully peeled off the backing film, leaving a neat temporary tattoo in its place. Letting out a somewhat shaky breath, Ray stepped back and smiled. “You’re done. You look good, Frase.” 

“I hardly think so, Ray,” Fraser looked down and brushed his fingers lightly over the image. “It is a smooth application however, very neat, thank you kindly.” 

Ray shrugged like it hadn’t been a thing, a grin on his lips. “Not hard with a smooth canvas and I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.”

Their eyes locked and Ray heard his own words and let out a cough. “So, uh, you’re good.” he stammered, averting his gaze. He turned away and picked up the case files, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment to find Fraser already dressing himself when he turned back around. 

****

Fraser packed a couple of shirts, a pair of jeans and some underwear into his duffle bag. He picked up Connor’s file again and thumbed through it. After reviewing the case file and committing it to memory, he’d had to become very familiar with both Connor and his alias Duncan Craig in a very short time. The FBI had spent hours drilling him on the facts and details of Duncan’s life, including the fact that Duncan was homosexual. They had assured him, however, that the man wasn’t currently involved with anyone, though Fraser wondered how forthcoming Connor would have actually been about that. 

He mentally prepared himself for the possibility that he could encounter former lovers of the man regardless. Proper preparation was essential in this case after all. The Feds were due to pick him up soon, but they'd given him time to get out of his uniform and collect some of his things. He wouldn't need much given that most of his clothes would be provided by the FBI for this operation. 

He wished he had gotten a chance to speak to Ray in private to address the fight they'd had, but once the operation had been given the go-ahead, Ray had been whisked out of Welsh's office by Agent Jones to get him up to speed. Touching his left pectoral muscle, Fraser momentarily closed his eyes at the memory of Ray's fingers gently stroking his skin as he had put that ridiculous fake tattoo on his chest. 

It left him breathless and tingly, and his groin ached to think of those wonderful slender hands touching more of his body. Snapping his eyes open, he physically shook himself out of that reverie and took a few deep calming breaths. Wishful thinking would do him no good. No matter his attraction to Ray, he would not jeopardise their partnership further by adding unrequited feelings to the mix. That was a recipe for disaster and Ray was too precious to him. 

He was exceedingly glad that Jones at least was involving his partner. Fraser needed to know Ray would be part of the operation for his own peace of mind. This was new territory for him and while he usually relished a challenge he couldn't deny a certain amount of disquietude at going undercover. Having Ray covering him, making sure the Feds were doing everything in their power to maintain his safety, allowed him to maintain a level of composure about the entire operation. 

His father had been right: he had worked alone for so long before meeting Ray Vecchio and then Ray Kowalski that he had not truly understood the strength such partnership gave a man. Now he did, he was terrified of losing it. At the back of his mind was the nagging fear that although still partners, the intense bond he and Ray Kowalski shared had been stretched too taut by his rash actions and he was painfully afraid it was on the verge of snapping. Again. 

Sighing, Fraser looked around his tiny office feeling like there was something he had forgotten as he put on his leather jacket. For the briefest of moments, he longed for his father to appear to give him some well-meaning yet nonsensical advice regarding his upcoming assignment or his situation with Ray. Although, given his present mood, he quickly changed his mind about that.

He had arranged for Turnbull to watch Diefenbaker, who was now sat in front of the closed door of his office grumbling at him. 

Fraser gave the half-wolf a resigned look, "I know you're not happy, but you know why I have to do this. It’s my job." 

Diefenbaker whined and lay down across the door. 

"Now you're just being immature." 

A sharp bark caused Fraser to pause and his shoulders to slump in defeat. Moving over to his companion he crouched down and took hold of Dief's muzzle gently. "I promise you, I shall take every precaution. This will be over before you realise I'm gone, and Turnbull is more than capable of taking care of you."

Another whine of protest had Fraser rubbing his eyebrow. "I’m sure he learned his lesson from the last time."

Diefenbaker gave him a disgruntled growl. 

"Perhaps you could use this opportunity to develop some self-control."

Letting out a forlorn whine, Diefenbaker reached up and licked Fraser's face. 

Smiling a little at the rare affection, Fraser scratched him between the ears. "Yes, I know, and I you, but I will be alright." He nodded when the wolf barked a couple of times. "Yes, he is working the case with me, well, with the FBI. The important thing to remember is Ray will ensure I'm not placed in more danger than is necessary."

The wolf cocked his head and yipped a little, licking Fraser's hand. 

"That's just silly, Dief. Ray is a professional and has made no indication his feelings are anything to the contrary." 

The wolf canted his head and yipped again.

"No, I am not in denial, I honestly don't know where you get these notions."

A knock on the door drew their attention.

"Fraser, it's me," Ray announced. "You talking to the wolf again?" he asked through the door. 

Diefenbaker reluctantly got up and moved when Fraser gestured at him so he could open the door. "Ray, I wasn't expecting you."

Flashing a briefly amused toothy grin, Ray entered Fraser's tiny office. "That much was obvious, Frase." He bent down to pet Dief's soft fur. "Hey, Furface." 

"I thought you’d left the station with the FBI a few hours ago," Fraser started hesitantly, closing the door and moving over to his desk. He stood beside Ray, their shoulders touching and zipped his duffle bag closed. 

"Yeah, yeah they’ve been drilling me since we left Welsh's office. My head is buzzing," pausing Ray fiddled with the Stetson on Fraser's desk, avoiding his gaze. "I wanted to catch you at the station, but the Feds got there first." 

He hesitated and ran a hand through his spiked blond hair. "Fraser, we uh... we need to talk before you leave." Finally looking at him, Ray stared as though noticing for the first time that Fraser was out of uniform and that they were practically chest to chest in Fraser’s cramped office. He swallowed several times before he found his voice again.

Fraser stilled, looking away from Ray’s intense lingering gaze, dread curling in his gut. The office suddenly seemed far too small and the air just a little too thin as he prepared himself for the worst. 

"-- Ray, I--"

"Look, I uh--"

Fraser let out an uneasy laugh as they both started speaking at once. "My apologies, after you."

"No, no it's alright, say what you gotta say, Frase," Ray urged. 

Fraser pinned Ray with a fervent look, his voice cool and distant in an attempt to hide the depth of his distress. "Please, Ray, I insist."

Ray held his partner's gaze for a long moment. Then took a deep breath. "Alright. I wanted to say sorry for blowing up at you when we were here earlier. I lost my cool. Again. And that's not buddies, I just…" Ray looked up to the ceiling, his hands planting on his hips. "Fuck, I'm not good at this shit, Fraser." 

"I am not that adept myself apparently," Fraser offered cautiously, tugging on his ear. 

"You drive me crazy, Ben!" Ray blurted out.

Fraser stared at him with astonished bright eyes. 

"And you scare the hell out of me," he admitted, looking down at the floor with a slight frown. "You need to stop being such a control freak and stop taking stupid risks, especially when I've told you to hold back." Ray stalled and shook his head, seemingly struggling with the words. "I need you to trust me or this --" he waved a hand between them, "--this isn't going to work." 

"I know."

"What?" Ray's head snapped up at the soft reply. "You know?" 

Avoiding Ray's intense gaze, Fraser licked his lower lip. "It has come to my attention that I have been perhaps overzealous, even arrogant in my pursuit of justice. In my zeal, I have shown little regard for your concerns and acted in an unconscionable manner with regards to our partnership."

"Uncons -- what, what is that?" 

Fraser chanced a look at Ray, "I have acted unreasonably and have neglected to give you the trust that you have so often and so readily given me."

“Ah.” Ray blinked. “Right.” he frowned. "This came to your attention? You mean what I said actually got through to you for once?" 

Fraser could hear that Ray’s tone was lighter, teasing but the words sounded sincere and earnest. Like Ray needed Fraser to have heard them and to have taken them to heart. He took a step closer, a hand reaching out to grasp Ray’s arm before withdrawing to his side, all of a sudden very aware that he was in danger of trapping Ray between his cot on the floor and himself. 

"Yes, Ray, and I hope you can forgive me." He swallowed, his voice thick, his heart pounding as he looked into Ray’s eyes. "This partnership, your friendship means a great deal to me and I did not intend to put such a great strain on that by taking advantage. If you were to end it due to my intransigence, I would understand. It would be what I deserve, but I could never forgive myself for pushing you away. I’m not certain what I would do if… if you--" His voice failed him. He lowered his gaze with a frustrated rub of his eyebrow.

"--whoa, whoa wait, nobody is ending anything due to no intra gents... what?" Ray shook his head in confusion.

"My stubbornness, Ray," Fraser clarified quietly, his eyes closed, his chin to his chest, despondent.

"Oh." Ray rubbed a hand through his hair again and stepped closer, he put his hands on Fraser's upper arms in order to get him to focus. "Look at me, Fraser." 

Fraser tried to not look at Ray who was tilting his head a little to get his attention. He swallowed down his obvious nervous reluctance when Ray repeated his gentle command. 

"Ben, look at me." 

When Fraser finally met his gaze, his heart pounding and Ray gave him a small smile. "Me and you, we're a duet. Don't want to give that up for anybody or anything."

"But Ray you just said--"

Holding up a hand, Ray stopped Fraser's protest. "Don’t you think this partnership means as much to me as it does to you?" Not waiting for Fraser's response, Ray pushed ahead before he lost his nerve. "I care too damn much about you and what happens to you. Even when you are being a stubborn bastard, but there needs to be give and take. I know giving up control is hard for you being an independent Mountie man and all that, but I've been doing this job as long as you have, and you need to trust that I know what I'm doing when I tell you to wait or fall back."

He moved his left hand to the back of Fraser's neck and squeezed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to have to bury you, Ben. I have nightmares about that shit." 

A soft whine added weight to Ray’s words and he glanced at Diefenbaker watching them intently. “Looks like I’m not the only one,” he added gently.

"I'm sorry." Pressing his lips together, Fraser looked down at his feet momentarily. "It is admittedly difficult for me, but I will endeavour my utmost to do better." He glanced up earnestly at Ray, studying his expressive grey eyes that even now looked at him with respect, concern and an ardent intensity that felt quite daunting when solely focused on him. Oh, how he craved for it to always be riveted on him. "I want you to know that I _ do _ trust you, Ray, more than I have ever trusted anybody else." 

Ray's lips twitched into a smile. "That hard to say?" 

Fraser felt the tentative caress of Ray's fingers in his hairline at the nape of his neck and the squeeze of his right hand on his arm and shook his head, suppressing a shiver of desire. "Not in the least," he replied softly. 

"That's why you demanded I be on this case?" 

"I didn't want to put you in a difficult position, Ray, but there is nobody else I would rather have looking out for my well-being." 

"Good. That's great. Greatness." Ray held Fraser's gaze. 

The air between them felt charged, their bodies too close in the small room. Ray’s eyes burning so brightly at him, that Fraser couldn’t look away, suddenly overcome by an overwhelming urge to kiss him. But he couldn't. He wouldn't risk everything for carnal desire. Not again.  _ Never _ again. His heart was too fragile and Ray too important to him. Ray, however, seemed to have his own opinions on the matter. 

"I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it because we're um…" Ray trailed off.

"Partners, Ray?" Fraser whispered, his breath catching in his throat when Ray shifted gracefully into his personal space, giving him no room to even breathe as the back of his legs pressed against the edge of his desk.

Ray gave a short nod. "Partners, yeah," he breathed out. His gaze never strayed from Fraser's face as he slowly swept his thumb along his jawline. Ray parted his lips slightly and tilted his head, drawing closer. 

Fraser felt the nervous hitch in his chest, his lungs no longer seeming to function as Ray brought their bodies flush to one another, the warmth of his body washing over him making him light-headed. His tremulous hands lifted and rested on Ray's narrow hips, fingers curling into him. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. Just holding him, gripping hard enough to remind him that he was real and this was really happening. 

While he was frozen to the spot, his mind blank in incredulity, it was just like Ray to push aside his own fear of rejection, deciding to take a leap of faith. Ray, who wore his heart on his sleeve and took Fraser's breath away with the strength of his convictions and passion. At that moment, Fraser longed to be as brave and as sure of his feelings, but when Ray closed the final distance between them he found he could not move, could not speak, his thoughts scattering into oblivion.

****

Ray felt as though time stopped when his lips brushed ever so lightly over Ben's. Fraser hadn't moved but hadn't punched him in the face either, and Ray clung onto that sliver of hope with everything he had. The tentative touch of their lips drew out a quiet choked sound from Fraser so soft that Ray almost missed it and had no idea what it meant.

Before Ray could truly process any of it and do more, an abrupt hard knock at the door forced the two men apart as though they’d been burned. Ray had to catch himself against the wall as he stumbled over Fraser’s cot. 

"Constable, are you ready?" Agent Jones asked through the door. 

Ray stared breathlessly at Fraser's stunned expression, feeling like he was drowning in the deep arctic blue of his eyes, his heart racing. What was he thinking? His timing couldn’t have been worse. He ducked his head, tearing his eyes away, frowning, and rubbing the back of his neck. "I uh…sorry..." 

Clearing his throat, Fraser gestured to the door, his voice rough as he spoke. "I should--" 

"Yeah, yeah. I know, you gotta go." Ray nodded, straightening up and catching his partner's uncertain gaze. 

"Ray--?"

Shaking his head, Ray gave Fraser a small smile, despite the wobble of his voice. "It's okay. I shouldn't have...duty calls. Put a pin in it."

Fraser opened his mouth as if to argue before stopping himself and turning to pick up his bag instead. He paused, regarding his partner with a look of longing or worry? Ray couldn't be sure. "We're okay?" 

"Yeah, Fraser, we're okay. We're good." 

Nodding, Fraser rounded his desk. He slipped bodily past Ray, hesitating in front of him for only a second, his hand coming up to squeeze Ray's arm before he reluctantly stepped away and opened the door.

"Uh, Fraser?"

Turning in the doorway, Fraser looked expectantly back at Ray. "Yes, Ray?"

"Be careful. I mean it. Don't make me kick you in the head."

"I wouldn't want that, Ray." 

Ray thought his heart might burst at the sight of Fraser's fond smile. "Promise?"

"Ray, you have my word." 

Ray nodded and let Fraser leave. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to steady himself against Fraser’s desk. He had just turned his world upside down and made it 3000% more complicated, but all he could think about was the tingle of his lips where they'd met Fraser's. Ben’s lips. 

A forlorn whine and a gentle lick of his hand pulled him back to the present and he looked down at the wolf peering up at him dolefully. "Yeah, Dief, I'm scared too." 

****

Fraser had been bundled into a blacked-out car with Agent Wallis and had been driven away before Ray had even left the Mountie’s office. Agent Jones had waited for him and now they were on their way to set up camp at a water plant in Port Huron on the Canadian border. 

Jones had explained that Fraser had been equipped with a tracking device and a bug easily concealed in his clothes so they could maintain indirect contact with him. They could listen in, but they couldn’t communicate. Ray didn't like that. It left him feeling uneasy, if anything went wrong and they were out of range, Fraser would be on his own. 

To settle his nerves, Ray had committed all the details of the set-up to memory and had fiercely held his ground with the FBI to ensure he was placed in the best possible locations to drag Fraser’s ass out of the fire should the need arise. He owed the Lieutenant a bottle of scotch, it’d been his intervention that ultimately got Ray what he wanted. 

Fraser was going to be dropped at the hotel Agent Connor - the man he was replacing - usually stayed at when doing these jobs for the mob. He would be picked up in the morning by a goon by the name of Taylor who was a member of some Canadian mob apparently - something Ray was still trying to wrap his head around - to take him to the scheduled meet for the pick-up. It all sounded so straight forward on paper, but Ray knew how easily and quickly things could fuck up. 

Sitting in the unmarked FBI van on the way to the border, Ray drifted in and out of a restless sleep while Agent Jones hummed quietly along to the radio. Jones was a much calmer man than Wallis and Ray was glad that it was him he was doing surveillance with for the first stage of the job. 

Shifting in his seat in an attempt to stay awake, Ray stared absently out of the van's window. It was dark out and the roads were mostly empty. Without anything else to distract him, Ray found he couldn't stop reliving that stolen moment in Fraser's office. 

He hadn't gone to the consulate with the intention of making a move on his Mountie. It had just happened. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what had made him do it, what lapse in judgment had convinced him it was a good idea? Now it was driving Ray crazy not knowing how Fraser felt about it. He closed his eyes, remembering the softness of Ben's lips just barely touching his own and that oh so quiet sound he'd made. Ray thought at the time it had sounded surprised, yet so achingly needy it had practically broken Ray's heart to hear it. 

Now that a couple of hours had passed, Ray wasn't sure it hadn't simply been a noise of shock and confusion. Fraser was polite, sure, but was he so polite that he wouldn’t stop his dumbass partner from kissing him if he hadn’t wanted him to? Ray kept telling himself that in spite of the fact that Fraser had tensed up, he hadn't pulled away, hadn’t told him to stop and that had to mean something. Ray desperately wanted it to mean something. 

Frustrated, he heaved a sigh and tiredly rubbed his face, cursing his lack of impulse control and poor timing. Why could he never learn? Kissing your partner - if it could even be called an actual kiss given how brief it had been - right before he went undercover, was not smart and definitely not buddies. Hell, kissing your partner period was not top of the list in the 'how to be a cop' handbook. It was just not smart. He sure could pick 'em. First Stella and now Fraser, why did he keep doing this to himself? He’d always known he’d been a little queer, even before Stella and then a lot queer after his divorce. But making moves on your, granted, ridiculously attractive, yet most likely straight, partner was just D U M dumb.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching his nose. He had to focus, he had a job to do and Fraser was depending on him to do it. Ray hoped when it was all over and done with that Fraser would forgive him and he would still call him his partner and friend.

"There's coffee in the thermos on the back seat," Jones stated, looking briefly at Ray. "Though you should probably try to get some sleep while you can." 

"Can't sleep," Ray unbuckled his seat belt and twisted back to grab the thermos. Pouring out a cup, he sipped it and grimaced. "Wouldn't happen to have any sugar would you?" 

"'Fraid not," Jones replied. 

Ray grunted and kept drinking the coffee anyway. If nothing else it gave him something else to focus on other than Fraser, Fraser's bare chest, or where Fraser was right at that moment, and definitely not whether Fraser was thinking about him and what happened in his office. 

"So, working with a Mountie, huh?" 

Glancing at Jones, Ray scowled. So much for being distracted. "Full marks for observation." 

Jones just smiled at Ray's snark. “How did that happen?”

“What, you don’t have it on file somewhere?” 

Jones chuckled. “Yes but it’s always nice to hear information from the horse’s mouth.” 

Ray made a face and rolled his eyes. “He came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of his father and he stayed as liaison with the Canadian consulate.”

“And now he’s your partner?”

“Yeah, he’s my partner. Going on nearly four years now.” 

"He was with the real Vecchio before right?" 

Ray's head jerked up to glare at Jones who just smiled with banality at him, tapped the side of his nose and stated, "FBI."

Of course, they would know all about that. Ray allowed himself to relax a little. "Yeah, uh… yeah. Been about a year and a half for me though."

"What's that like? He seems like a good cop if a bit on the odd side." 

"Man's a damn freak, licks stuff off the sidewalk, electrical sockets, jumps out of windows because the door is three whole steps further away," Ray started. "But yeah, he's a great cop, great partner too, when he's not being the most irritating man this side of the border and thinking he’s bulletproof."

"Did you say he licks electrical sockets?" Jones laughed in disbelief.

"Man that isn't even the craziest shit he pulls," Ray smirked. "Once he stood in front of a suspect with a loaded gun. Well, we all thought it was loaded and he just strolls up, bright red Serge, a walking target. Tells the man he doesn't have enough bullets because he'd been keeping count. There were three of us out there, right, two cops and his boss, and we all had a different bullet count but him? Never a doubt. And he's right, no bullets. Dares the guy to throw his damn knife. Asks him for it, says please because not being polite is worse than getting dead in Canada apparently." Ray shakes his head and huffs a laugh at the memory. 

"And what happened?" Jones prompted, rapt in the story. 

"What do you think?" 

"He threw the knife?" 

"He threw the damn knife," Ray grinned, enjoying telling the story. 

Jones stole a glance at Ray. "What did the constable do? Dodge it?"

"Better," a wide proud grin spread across Ray's face. "The bastard caught it. Like the fricken Grasshopper."

"No shit!" Jones exclaimed in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Then he turned to me like he'd just stopped someone from jaywalking and said, 'that was close, Ray,' like no fucking shit Fraser, like I couldn't see that for myself." Still grinning, Ray shook his head. "Just about gave me a heart attack. The man is a menace to sanity everywhere."

"It does sound unbelievable."

"He's unbelievable." Ray agreed emphatically. "If it hadn't happened in front of my own eyes, I'd have called bullshit too. I was even wearing my glasses."

"He pull that kind of stunt a lot?"

Ray shrugged, feeling a bit more relaxed now that they were talking. "Depends really. I don't think he's truly reckless or anything, always has a plan. The man doesn't have an impulsive bone in his body, but when there's justice to be done, it's like this switch that flips in his head and he forgets he's not Superman or something." Ray's grin faded as he remembered their fight. "Drives me nuts."

"Yeah, I can see why," Jones commiserated. 

"What about you? What's it like working with a hard ass like Wallis?" 

"Oh, he's a good man," Jones answered quickly. "He's had a rough time of it, got divorced so he threw himself into the job. Takes it seriously, but a little too personally sometimes."

Ray definitely understood how a divorce would throw you for a loop. "Yeah, not good to be wound so tight, something has to give."

Jones chuckled and gave Ray a knowing look. "Could say the same about you."

He wanted to glare at the man but he couldn't really deny it. Ray had heard the gossip about him; he was highly strung, a wild card, had anger issues.

Jones continued with a glance at Ray, "Paul, uh Wallis, he thinks you're a hotshot punk."

"That so?" His mouth twitched into a mirthless smirk. "Let me guess, thinks I'm a liability and I'm going to blow his whole op?"

Jones shook his head, his expression increasingly somber. "He thinks you're going to get the Mountie killed. Thinks you're too close." 

Ray did glare at that. "What the fuck? He's my partner."

"Yeah, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to see you guys were having issues. Fuck, you risked getting thrown in jail for assaulting a federal agent to stop him from helping us. So either you really don't like us, which trust me, I get, I was a cop first, or you don't trust the constable." 

"I do trust him!" Ray snapped, "trust him with my life."

"But?" 

Wilting in his seat, Ray finished his lukewarm coffee. "He's the most honest guy you'll ever meet. Won't tell a lie. He'll bore you to death first with an Inuit story about some caribou to avoid telling you how he's really feeling or to make you forget you even asked a question he doesn't want to answer - he's sneaky like that, probably thinks I haven't clued in to that little tell of his - but he won’t lie to you." He sighed, his thoughts once again fixated on his absent partner. 

"So being honest means you don't trust him?"

"Nah, being honest is going to get him whacked. Especially on a job like this one." Saying it aloud made the knot of fear in the pit of his stomach tighten and a cold shudder slide up his spine. "They don't get much call to do undercover up in them Northwest Areas," Ray added. "I don't think he's ever done any undercover this dangerous before and nothing where not lying would get him shot in the head."

"First time for everything," Jones offered lightly.

"Yeah, let's hope it's not his last time for anything else." 

Jones cast a sparing look at Ray, hearing the resigned hostility. "He's been a police officer for sixteen years. He strikes me as a capable man." 

"That's the thing about Fraser though, he is capable. Fuck if he's not capable," Ray stared out of the windscreen, pursing his lips. "But when he gets stuck on something he's decided is wrong or needs fixing, he never ever lets it go. Doesn't know when to quit. Makes for a great cop but he's his own worst enemy."

"He can't be that bad," Jones protested. "He's a cop. You need a strong sense of self-preservation to do this job."

Ray scoffed and gave the agent an irked 'you wanna bet?' look. "He runs around Chicago fighting crime without a gun. What does that tell you?"

Jones stared at him, the colour of his cheeks blanching somewhat. 

"Uhuh," Ray just nodded not needing the man to say the words and pressed his lips into a thin grim smile. "Exactly my point. Now you get where I'm coming from." 

That gave Jones cause for concern. "Do you think he can pull this off?" he asked quietly after a short heavy silence. 

Letting out a sigh, Ray closed his eyes. "If it means saving those people and stopping more kids like Zachary from being hurt, then yeah, he'll pull this off."

"At what cost?" 

Ray didn't want to think about the answer to that and let his head rest back against his seat. "He'll see the job done. You got nothing to worry about. He won't let you down." 

"Wasn't the job I was worried about," Jones countered gently. 

"That's what you have me for." Ray smiled wryly. "He tries to pull any dumb self-righteous shit, I'll shoot every fucker that tries to stop and or hurt him and then I'll beat him to death with my empty gun." 

Jones laughed at that, taking the lighter tone for the relief it was. "He's a lucky man to have you as a partner."

'And I him.' Ray thought to himself. Benton Fraser was quite simply the best thing to have happened to him since Stella and there was nothing symbolic about it.

****

Ray yawned and fiddled with the large headphones covering his ears. It was coming up on 6am and the surveillance cameras were still showing an empty dock. 

Jones had parked the van out of the way, but close enough that they had a good view. They still had thirty minutes before the drop-off and Ray was gulping down more hot coffee like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He turned when the back of the van opened and Jones climbed in. 

"They're on their way," was all he said, putting his own headphones on. 

Ray sucked in a deep steadying breath, there was no going back now. All they could do was wait. 

****

Not twenty minutes later a car pulled up and parked, the occupants waiting inside. 

Ray ignored the pounding of his heart knowing his partner was in that car under the guise of Duncan Craig aka Agent Connor. He couldn’t see him, but he knew. 

"We got contact," Jones uttered softly, despite nobody being around to hear them.

Ray looked at the second screen showing a truck pull up and three men exit. "Go time." 

He held his breath when the car doors opened. A large bald man stepped out first, holding the rear passenger door open. His breath escaped him all at once when Fraser stepped out of the car looking like he owned it and the docks it was parked on. His gaze was sharp as he turned his head towards the waiting men. 

He was dressed in a blue suit that seemed to complement his long legs and broad shoulders, the open blazer catching a little in the wind. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, casual, slick. Damn, but he looked good. Ray licked his lips and swallowed. His hair looked wild like somebody had run their fingers through it and mussed it up, and that was something Ray really didn’t need to think about right now. 

Fraser's face was a stern mask as he took in his surroundings. He was unreadable, much like when he was on guard duty. Neither placid nor aggressive, just the right side of authoritatively intimidating that Ray forced himself to breathe. The large man, Taylor, who was a good head taller than Fraser and built, leaned into his partner, far too close for Ray's liking, his large hand on the small of Fraser's back as he murmured something in his ear. Ray got the distinct impression Duncan's relationship with the man wasn't entirely professional.

"Another Canadian mob group," Jones explained as the bug on Fraser picked up part of what Taylor was saying. "They don't trust them."

"Who's this big guy Taylor with Fraser?"

"One of Duncan's guys." 

Ray made a face. "They seem close."

Jones frowned as he tried to listen into the conversation. "They've worked together before. Or rather he's a member of the mob Connor's alias, Duncan Craig is undercover with."

Ray blanched at that. "He'll know Fraser isn't Duncan."

Jones shook his head. "He's a hired mob guy. Connor hasn't used him that much for this job, apparently due to some beef with the Mckinley's."

"Apparently?" Ray bit out angrily. "This is the kind of shit we need to know. If he knows Duncan well, he could blow this thing wide open, get Fraser killed."

"Relax, he's not that bright. I think that's why Connor uses him." 

_ "These are the same guys who fucked us over last time, Duncan." _

Ray chewed his lip but kept quiet. He did not like how this man was acting awfully familiar, intimate even with Fraser's alter ego. He hoped Jones was right and that Fraser wouldn't freak out. Not that he was faring much better at the moment. Pot meet kettle.

Now that Ray thought about it, he had no idea how Fraser felt about come-ons from guys. Sure he blushed something fierce and practically fled back to the Yukon when he was the focus of any woman's amorous attentions, but that didn't mean he would react the same way or negatively if those same attentions came from a guy.

Their stolen kiss swirled about in his head, making him dizzy. Fraser hadn't freaked out, he had been startled, but not angry. Maybe Fraser was more than okay with receiving that kind of interest from men? That only made Ray bristle at the sight of Taylor's hand still pressed against Fraser’s back right above his ass. 

_ "We'll verify the shipment."  _ Ray heard Fraser reply. 

_ "You sure that's wise, boss?"  _

_ "If they've been known to short change us before, I want to make sure we get what we’ve paid for. Would you rather find out when we turn up to the Mckinley meet with less than promised?"  _

The bald man nodded _. "Yeah, you're right, Duncan, just didn't want to piss these bastards off after last time." _

Ray watched with a humourless smirk as Fraser smiled and patted the larger man's cheek in an all too patronising manner.  _ "Of course I'm right. You're overthinking this." _

_ "And if they have tried to undercut us?"  _

_ "That's what I hired you for,"  _ Fraser responded with a dark look at the waiting mobsters on the other end of the docks _.  _

_ "Won't be a problem, boss. You can depend on me."  _ The bald man snickered and pulled out a gun from the car, tucking it into the back of his jeans, pulling his jacket over it. __

_ "Good. I would hate to have to terminate your contract prematurely."  _

Ray pursed his lips at the unmistakable threat and ice-cold delivery. He shared a surprised glance with Jones and shrugged helplessly. Fraser had gotten so scarily into character, Ray could have been convinced he was hard-ass enough to follow through with it, if he hadn't known better. 

Fraser and his muscle strolled over to the waiting mobsters by the truck. 

_ "You're late,"  _ the smartest dressed guy growled out at them.

_ "On the contrary,"  _ Fraser raised up a finger. _ "We arrived precisely when we meant to." _

_ "You bein' a smartass?"  _ a second man demanded hotly. __

_ "The shipment?"  _

Ray grinned at Fraser completely side-stepping the ticking bomb of the second guy, his focus never wavering from the first. Fraser knew who was in charge. "Well played, Frase just stay cool," he muttered to himself. 

_ "In the back." _

_ "I want to see." _

_ "We didn't agree to--" _

_ "--It doesn't matter what you agreed,"  _ Fraser interrupted tersely _. "The Mckinley family do not take kindly to poor quality merchandise and it isn't me they'll come looking for should you fail to meet their standards."  _

On the camera, Fraser held out his arms and gave the mobsters a disarming smile. It was surreal to watch. 

_ "I'm just the middle man. It's your family name on the cheque." _

Ray and Jones waited with baited breath. Fraser waited, standing at parade rest, calm and collected. Ray knew he had the patience to out-wait a glacier, he was more worried about the second guy's twitchy trigger finger. 

_ "Open the back,"  _ the first man snarled _. _

_ "But--" _

_ "--Do it, or they'll be fishing pieces of you out of Lake Huron."  _

The second man glared at Fraser who remained impassive _. "Follow me." _

_ "Thank you kindly." _

Those familiar words, while normally polite and sincere were dripping with an arrogant disdain Ray wasn't used to hearing from Fraser. It seemed to have the desired effect though. Letting out a short laugh of relief, Ray rubbed his mouth with trepidation. They weren't out of the woods yet. 

****

"Surprised to see you show up here," the fair-headed man didn't look up from the documents he was signing. 

Meredith held her ground on the other side of the desk. "Why, because of the police?" She asked haughtily. 

Putting his pen down, the man looked up and narrowed his eyes at her. "You were arrested. You were careless." 

"Big deal, it was necessary to throw them off the trail. Chicago's finest they may be but they ain't that bright. They had nothing to hold me on." 

Clasping his hands in front of him, the man regarded her suspiciously. "Tell me what happened." 

Meredith scowled. "Oh, come on, Joseph, don't pull this shit." She leaned on the desk, her voice dropping lower. "You and I both know we're in this together, where you go I go. Think I'm really going to risk all that by talking to some gung ho detective and his unhinged Mountie partner? Give me a break," she scoffed. 

The man stood and rounded the desk, taking hold of Meredith's hands. He brought them to his lips and kissed the palms tenderly. "Tell me." Then he tugged them firmly, squeezing the slender wrists until she gasped in pain. 

"Fine. They caught me at the hospital. I tied up our other loose end but that Mountie recognised me somehow, caught up to me and stopped me from leaving before their backup arrived," she shrugged a shoulder and smiled demurely. "I got out on a technicality before they could pin anything on me. Now there is no evidence to pin. Nothing to worry about. I knew what I was doing."

Joseph tightened his grip, shaking her a little, her pupils dilating with the pain. "If I find out you have betrayed me, betrayed us, the police will be the last thing you have to worry about."

Pressing flush to the man, Meredith licked her lips deliberately. "I wouldn’t do that to you," she breathed out. She stretched out the fingers of her restrained right hand and caressed his jawline. 

Joseph hesitated his dark brown eyes studying her face. He let one hand go and ran his fingers through her hair. When she turned into it with a hum he grabbed a handful and yanked, forcing her head back. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You know me, Joseph. You know I love you. Come on, we're too close to stop now. Let's finish what we started hmm? Then everything the Mckinleys have will be ours and we can do whatever we want." Meredith held her breath, knowing that the play to Joseph’s ego usually softened the man’s temper. He had proven very useful to her but when it came down to it, she would destroy him right along with the McKinley family for taking her little brother from her. Until then she just had to play along. 

A smile spread slowly across Joseph's face and he tugged Meredith closer to crush his lips against hers. In one swift move, he had her lying back against his desk, his bulk pinning her there. "I think I'll do whatever I want right now," he growled out huskily, swallowing her wanton moan with a fierce kiss. 

****

Pinching his nose, fending off a tension headache, Fraser stared out of the windshield of the truck, his thoughts often returning to Ray and the soft touch of his lips to his own. However brief it had been, it had ignited a fire in his soul that refused to be ignored. Ray wanted him, desired him, and that revelation alone just about floored Fraser.

His companion, Taylor, was driving their cargo back to Chicago. It was an hour into the journey back and Fraser was exceedingly grateful that the man had so far respected Duncan Craig's need for quiet. 

The meeting with the Mckinley mob was scheduled for later that day. To say he felt uneasy was a vast understatement. The only solace he had was that Ray and the FBI were following behind them discreetly. 

He had known what the job entailed and had thought he had prepared himself adequately. Nonetheless, to see those people huddled in the cramped container of the truck, drugged and defenseless, had appalled and disgusted him to his very core. He had to admit to being somewhat shaken by the reality and struggling with the fact that they were now driving those people to their fates at the hands of the Mckinley family. 

"You're quiet, Duncan," Taylor rumbled.

"I didn’t sleep well," Fraser answered truthfully. 

"I hear that I’ll be glad when this job is done. The Mckinleys are bad news." 

"Hmm." 

Taylor glanced across at Fraser. "We should celebrate a job well done. Get drunk, let me fuck you good and hard the way you like it, pass out and do it all again. You and me, just like old times," he reached over and squeezed Fraser's thigh. "It's been a hell of a long time. What d'you say?" 

_ "Motherfucker!" _

_ Jones' eyes widened in alarm at Ray's outburst in the back of the van. "What is it?"  _

_ "He's trying to get Fraser to hook up with him." _

_ "Oh, but he's alright?"  _

_ "No!" Ray snarled, pressing the headphones firmly to his head. "He wants to have sex with my partner! Nothing about this is alright!" He growled and glared at nothing falling quiet as he listened. His voice was more subdued when he spoke again. "Fraser's probably fine, I just wasn't prepared for it. He's gone quiet. This could blow his cover," he cautioned, trying to convince himself that was the real reason he was angry. _

Fraser cleared his throat several times, "I'd say I appreciate the offer." He laid his hand over Taylor's and gave it a squeeze. His heart was thumping in his chest. It wasn't that he had never been propositioned by a man before, he had. He had even indulged a couple of liaisons when he was younger out of sheer curiosity. 

"But let's focus on getting the job completed before we start making any plans to celebrate." He then lifted Taylor's large hand from his thigh and placed it on the man's own leg with a pat of consolation. 

He had to maintain this cover at least for a few more days and not knowing the full nature of Connor's or rather Duncan's relationship with this man put him at a severe disadvantage. It placed the entire operation at risk. Playing it cool was the only way not to rouse Taylor's suspicions. 

"Yeah, course," Taylor grunted with obvious disappointment. "Always all about that duty first, you got to learn to relax man. I always show you a good time, get you loosened up, don't I?"

Frankly, the fact that Taylor hadn't seen through the ruse yet, considering that he and Duncan had clearly been intimate in the past, left Fraser gobsmacked. How unobservant could the man be? But then perhaps he didn't actually care for Duncan beyond finding him an attractive sexual partner. Not everybody was like him and preferred to be emotionally invested in who they took to their bed. 

"That's why we can't," Fraser replied more firmly. "As delightful as your proposal sounds, I’m afraid we can’t afford the distraction such an evening would surely entail," he threw in a rueful smile for good measure.

"Man you can't say shit like that and not expect me to get hard." Taylor barked out a harsh laugh. "I should just pull over now and fuck you, we got the time, they'd never know," he protested gruffly. 

Fraser agitatedly rubbed his eyebrow, hoping he'd read the man's body language correctly while keeping his tone nonchalant. "All good things come to those who wait. I imagine that's what keeps you coming back for more." 

"You're such a cock tease." Taylor took it in his stride, smirking at Fraser. "It's a good thing I like that you're an arrogant sexy fuck. Keep sporting a cocky mouth like that though and you're going to get yourself in trouble." 

Fraser didn’t need to ask what kind of trouble he was referring to, he fully understood what Taylor was implying could happen and the wanton rumble of his voice made his skin crawl.

****

"Son of a bitch!" 

"Is the constable alright?" Jones called out, clenching the steering wheel tightly at Ray's second exclamation, glancing once over his shoulder while focusing on the highway. He wanted to keep the truck in view, but not get too close so they could observe the Mckinley drop off.

"For now," Ray grumbled and sat back in his seat, anxiously fiddling with the beads of his metal bracelet. This was a dangerous line Fraser was skirting. Hearing him hold his own with Taylor had been eye-opening, but what the hell was Fraser playing at? He could have just cut the man's advances down flat. Left no room for doubt. 

However, when he thought about it more logically - and it was no surprise to him that it was Fraser's voice in his head saying his name in that way he did when Ray let his temper get the best of him - Ray got it, and he hated that he did. This was part of the job maintaining the illusion, playing pretend with other people's feelings. Fraser had obviously felt he'd had no other choice.

That didn't stop it from filling Ray with nervous tension. They were too far away to help if the man tried anything. Not that Fraser couldn't take care of himself, but Taylor was in a completely different weight class. Standing beside him, he'd made Fraser look small. Ray closed his eyes tightly, willing away the horrible thoughts of what could happen should this Taylor discover that ‘Duncan’ was a cop. 

****

"Follow my lead," Fraser ordered as he opened the door of the truck. 

Taylor nodded. "You got it, boss." 

They got out and Fraser strolled over to the waiting blacked-out car. He stood in front of it and waited. Nothing happened for a long moment and then all four doors of the car opened and four men got out, followed by a woman Fraser recognised instantly. "Meredith," he murmured to himself, knowing the wire on his person would pick it up. He didn't know if the FBI had a visual on the meet. 

Flicking her dark hair back, Meredith stilled for a second when she laid eyes on Fraser. She recognised him then. The FBI must've placed her back in the field, Fraser thought to himself. He was irritated they hadn't mentioned this, but somewhat relieved he wasn't entirely without an ally. 

"You're an efficient man, Duncan," a tall blond man stepped forward and gave Fraser a disarming smile. If he was remembering the files correctly the man was Joseph Tiller, the right-hand man of the Mckinley family. "We appreciate the work you've done." 

"You’ll find the cargo all present and accounted for, as agreed," Fraser replied. 

The man nodded and gestured for two of his men to check out the truck. "The Mckinley's are pleased," he continued, lighting up a cigarette. "In recompense for your efforts, they've extended an invitation."

Fraser cocked his head curiously. This hadn't been part of the plan. "An invitation?" 

"You're to come with us. See more of the project. I'm afraid I can't tell you where."

"Then how--?"

"--Get in the car."

Stiffening, Fraser took in the other two men and Taylor tensing beside him. They didn't stand a chance if he resisted. "Alright."

"Duncan!" Taylor hissed. "What are you playing at?" 

Putting a hand on Taylor's arm, Fraser met his fierce gaze. "If they wanted to kill us, they'd have done it already. Relax. It's just business."

The blond man blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled widely. "That it is, don't worry. You're both invited. My men will drive the cargo." He dropped the cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of his shoe. "Shall we?"

"I don't like this," Taylor murmured under his breath. 

Fraser felt the same way, but hopefully, this was a legitimate offer and would get them closer to the Mckinley's center of operations. He dared a quick glance at Meredith as he ducked into the car and found her staring at him with a fierce intensity. He'd seen her look at him like that before, in the hospital parking lot, right before she stabbed Ray.

****

Ray was jittery, he had a bad feeling about this. "So this is what you expected right? What Meredith said would happen? To get closer to the Mckinley's op?" 

Jones looked at Ray and nodded. "It’s a little earlier than planned is all. We won't be able to follow them without blowing our cover here," he explained hesitantly. "We'll have to rely on the constable's tracker."

"I thought you said it has a five-mile radius?" Ray frowned. 

"It does."

"That's too far--"

"--It's what we've got."

Ray swore under his breath and yanked the headphones off his head. "Did you know she would be there?" He demanded hotly. 

"Of course."

"You're sure she's with us?"

"You think we would have let her back into the field if she wasn't?" Jones looked almost insulted. "We're determined to nail these guys, we're not stupid."

"I don't trust her," Ray declared. 

"You don't have to."

"She's bad news."

"What are you basing that on?"

"Uh, based on the fact she murdered two guys; I got a hunch," Ray snapped sarcastically. He stared at the camera image and watched helplessly as the car Fraser was in peeled away and left them on the docks. 

****

The car drove steadily for approximately thirty minutes by Fraser's reckoning and they didn't join a highway so they couldn't be more than twenty miles from their previous location. It narrowed their location down some, but as he couldn't see out of the blacked-out windows of the car, he couldn't really pinpoint where in Chicago they were. "Is there anything I should expect when we arrive?"

Joseph gave him an amused look. "You ever been to a human auction before?"

"No," Fraser answered honestly. 

"Then expect the unexpected," Joseph smirked. "I'll introduce you to the family. They've wanted to meet you for a while now, but we had to be sure, you know."

"Of course."

"Don't speak to them unless you're spoken to and you'll be fine. We don't expect you to buy any merchandise on your first visit." He winked suggestively. "But do bring a deposit on your next. Auctions aren't free." 

"Understood."

****

From what Fraser could determine, they were in a large warehouse of some kind, that smelled vaguely of chemicals. There were no windows, the walls were black and there were bright lights on the ceiling, dividing the space into five sections. At the center of each sat what could only be described as plastic cells lit with blindingly bright lights. The contrast would make it impossible for those on the inside to see out. 

Joseph led Fraser and Taylor to a seating area at the back of the warehouse. "Patrick, I brought our delivery man." 

Fraser laid eyes on a solid-looking middle-aged man who rose from the plush sofa with deliberate movements. He narrowed his sharp-eyed gaze at Fraser and looked both him and Taylor up and down. Patrick Mckinley was the eldest of three brothers and patriarch of the Mckinley family, one of the largest mobs in Chicago. Fraser had read about the brutal methods the family used to ensure loyalty and knew he had to be very, very careful. 

"Duncan Craig," Patrick spoke, a soft Irish lilt to his voice. "You've done my family a good service. I appreciate a man with a good work ethic." He held out his hand to Fraser. 

Fraser took the hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you kindly. As my friend here will undoubtedly tell you, I take my duty very seriously."

A wide smile spread across Patrick's face, not unlike that of a lion before it bit into your throat. "Glad to hear it. Business is going well so we're thinking of expanding a little, thinking of bringing a couple of new people into the fold. You'd be amenable to that, of course."

"Of course. Your success is my success." Fraser ignored Taylor shifting uncomfortably beside him though he could feel the man's intense glare on his skin, making it prickle. 

"I like him, Joseph. Show him around. Let him sample the product if he’s so inclined."

"Sure thing, boss." 

Patrick lit a cigar and gave a two-fingered salute to Fraser. "We've put you up in the Polynesia Hotel. Good reputation of discretion for men of a certain persuasion." He leered at Taylor and then back at Fraser. "Given our business model, you can expect no judgment from my family or those under my employ when you join us."

Of course, they would know of Duncan's predilections. That was just good business, Fraser thought. "That's very generous. Thank you." 

"Least I can do to sweeten the deal and reward a job well done," blowing out a smoke ring, Patrick held Fraser's gaze and slowly dragged his eyes up and down Fraser's body. "We'll be in touch." He winked. "Stay in town."

****

After showing Fraser the layout of the warehouse, Joseph left him in one of the areas with the plastic cells and told him to watch the show until a car was arranged to take him to his hotel. Taylor had wandered off to get himself a drink much to Fraser's relief. The man had started acting like an overly possessive bodyguard, his large hand frequently touching his back, arm or shoulder and very occasionally his posterior. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Fraser hoped he wouldn't insist on getting him a drink too. 

The lights in the warehouse had gone dark after Patrick had made an announcement and soon there was a crowd of people in each area around the cells. The only illumination was on the cells as one by one people were brought in. They were dressed much the same way Zachary had been except they were blindfolded and obviously under the influence of some kind of sedative.

Folding his arms in an attempt to disguise the rage he felt at such despicable exploitation, Fraser forced himself to watch as the crowds started to bid on the victims locked and blindfolded inside the cells. He wouldn’t be able to remember every face that was participating in such vile practices, but he could at least remember the faces of the victims. He had to get them out of there, had to do something. This was wrong. Standing by and letting this happen, FBI operation or not, made him feel physically sick. 

****

Taylor sucked on his beer and gazed at Duncan across the room. He couldn't see much of him, but he was standing close enough to one of the cells that the light highlighted his skin. This wasn't normally his thing, but he wasn't a man to walk away from an opportunity either. Now he just had to persuade Duncan to keep him on board. He would get them back to where they'd been before, he just had to get the man back to the hotel. Duncan had always been putty in his hands, he'd never been able to say no to him. 

"Enjoying the show?" 

Peering down at his shoulder, Taylor recognised the woman who had been at the meet. "I'm just here to work, lady."

"Yes, with Duncan," she followed his gaze. "He's an interesting one. How long you worked with him?"

"Long enough."

"Really?"

"What's it to you?" Taylor frowned. 

Meredith met his hard glare with her own and held up a photograph. "A problem," she stated simply. 

Snatching the picture, Taylor peered at it closely. He knew the red uniform but was shocked when he recognised the face. "What the fuck is this?"

"A promotion, if you're up to it," she smiled at him. 

"He's a--"

"--A Mountie, yeah. A member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"He's a cop?" Taylor couldn’t believe it. "How long?" 

"Long enough." Meredith stared at him intently. "Now we have to be very smart about this or we'll have every cop in the city on our ass."

"I'm going to kill him," Taylor growled out. 

"How about you help us and we'll help you?" she offered. "The Mckinleys can be quite generous." 

"I want him." 

"If you're smart, you can have him. But you’ll do exactly what I tell you or you're never leaving this room."

Taylor stiffened when he felt the hard muzzle of a gun being pressed under his rib cage. Bristling, his eyes fixed on Duncan. Taylor swallowed most of his beer in one pull. "What do you want me to do?"

****

"Sir?"

Fraser spun round startled at the touch to his elbow. "Yes?"

"Your car is ready, sir. Joseph wishes you a good night."

"Oh, of course."

"If you'll follow me?"

"What about my um--?"

"--Your acquaintance has already left for the hotel. You will see him there. I'm afraid you must put this on before we leave." He held out a blindfold. 

"Right." Fraser frowned and pulled the blindfold over his eyes, letting the man lead him out. He frowned at the sudden deviation of Taylor's behaviour and tried not to imagine what would be waiting for him when he arrived at the hotel. 

Truth be told, Fraser couldn’t be more relieved to be leaving the oppressive air of the warehouse and hoped the next time he stepped foot in it, it would be to shut the bastards down.

****

Ray ground his teeth and bounced his leg as he listened intently to the conversation. Everything was going smoothly, but with every passing moment, he was feeling more unsettled. "Polynesia Hotel," he announced when Jones got back in the van. "He's met Patrick. Apparently they're going to contact Fraser, didn’t say when."

Jones nodded and moved to the front of the van. "We'll park at the hotel. Hopefully, we'll get to follow them to the location of these auctions."

Jones started the engine and pulled the van out onto the street. His phone started ringing in the back and he cursed softly. "Could you get that?"

Ray tugged off the headphones and flipped open the cell. "Agent Jones' phone. Vecchio here."

_ "Yeah, it's Wallis, we've got a development." _

Ray listened intently, his frown deepening. "Shit when?"

Jones strained his neck trying to listen as he drove. "What is it?"

"Yeah, I'll tell him. What are we going to do?" Ray demanded. His mouth twisted unhappily at whatever answer Wallis gave him. "Alright, we're heading to the Polynesia Hotel, Fraser will be there later. Yeah, we'll see you there." He hung up the phone and rubbed his temples. "Fuck."

"What?" 

Moving to the front, he slid into the passenger seat. "That was Wallis. Connor woke up a couple of hours ago."

"Shit really? How is he?" 

Ray shook his head, mouth pressed into a thin line. "Managed to pass on some info before he flatlined twenty minutes ago."

"Oh, God." Jones breathed. 

"Wallis is going to fill us in when he joins us, but that's not the worst of it. "

"It's not?"

"It's Meredith. She carried out the hit on Connor. The bitch killed him. Something about keeping something quiet that Connor knew about." 

Jones went white. "Holy shit." 

Ray scowled, glaring out at the road ahead, jaw clenching and unclenching. "If we can't get to Fraser and fill him in, we're screwed and he's as good as dead."

****

"We have to send someone in!" 

Wallis rubbed his face. "It's too risky. They've put him up in this god-damned place, they'll be watching him."

Ray snarled in frustration. "We could use a cover. A waiter or a bartender."

"Pretty sure everyone is bought and paid for by the Mckinley family," Jones mused. 

"Shit!" Ray punched the side of the van. "Fucking shit!" 

"Feel better?" Wallis glared at him disdainfully. 

"My partner is going to fucking die because you let a murderer back into your operation!" Ray squared up to the bigger man. "You're lucky I don't punch your teeth into your brain." 

"There might be a way," Jones spoke up, seemingly oblivious to the animosity between the other two men. "Something Patrick Mckinley said about discretion for men of a certain persuasion." He looked at them with bright eyes. "They know Duncan is gay."

"And?" Wallis frowned. 

"No cameras in the suites," Jones pointed out thoughtfully. "The hotel prides itself in discretion, doesn’t allow cameras in the private suites."

"And sometimes," Ray held out his finger as the pieces clicked. "Powerful men like to hire."

"High-class entertainment," Jones finished with a grin. 

"Great!" Wallis barked in frustration. "Where the hell are we going to find a male prostitute?" 

"Not just any prostitute," Jones pointed out calmly. "A high-class escort." 

"They're not going to work with us. The mob is probably their biggest client." Wallis countered.

"Send me."

Wallis stared at Ray like he'd grown two heads. "You? You've got to be kidding!"

Ray clenched his fists. "Look pal, I've worked Vice and done undercover for years. That's my partner in there so I'm going in and nothing short of getting shot in the head is going to stop me."

"A male escort!" Wallis spluttered. "You think you can pull off a high-class escort?" 

It took all the restraint Ray had not to pummel the man into the ground and was thankfully more distracted by Jones circling him while looking him up and down.

"You're going to need some clothes."

Ray threw Jones a feral grin. "I'm all over that."

****

Batting away Frannie's hands, Ray fiddled with his collar and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His suit was fitted, dark midnight blue with a faint pinstripe, his shirt silk with a wide loose collar, and deep purple. The suit was his, but the shirt wasn't, it was Vecchio's. He'd grabbed his suit from his apartment and headed to the station to fill in the Lieutenant. On the way, he'd called Francesca and told her to bring the sexiest shirt Vecchio owned to the station. It was the first time that Ray thought being a style pig was a really good thing.

"Wow bro, you scrub up nice." Francesca looked him up and down with a hum of approval. 

"Knock it off, Frannie," Ray rolled his eyes in spite of the blush creeping up his cheeks. 

He stepped into the bullpen where Dewey happened to catch sight of him and wolf-whistled loudly. "Whoa, Vecchio, hot date? What's your going rate?" he teased with a laugh, ignoring the chastising swat of Huey's hand to his chest. 

Smirking at his fellow detective, Ray just gave him a middle finger salute. "Like you could afford me." 

Francesca touched Ray's arm pulling his attention away from Dewey's goading. She gazed at him with big brown eyes. "Is Frase… is he okay?" 

Taking hold of her hands, he gave them a squeeze. "He's going to be fine. I got his back. You know I won't let anything happen to him." 

"I know," she dropped her gaze. "But it's the mob, Ray…"

"Frannie," Ray shook his head. "I'll bring him home. You just keep planning his birthday, okay? He's probably going to need something to cheer him up after all this."

Francesca nodded and wiped at her damp cheek, stepping away when Welsh cleared his throat. 

"Detective, I must say this is more on the unorthodox side of undercover work."

"Nothing I haven't done before, sir," Ray grinned. 

Welsh nodded, not making a comment on that. "The FBI will be keeping us updated. You have back up, so call it in if you need it. Be careful, Ray." He pursed his lips, frowned and then reached over to tug another button of Ray's shirt open. 

Ray looked down at his partially exposed chest and back up at the Lieutenant with raised eyebrows.

Giving him a shrug, Welsh patted him on the shoulder. "It's all about the sell, Detective."

Ray smirked, desperately wanting to ask the Lieutenant questions about where he acquired that particular nugget of knowledge. Instead, he nodded his head once in agreement. "Yes, sir." 

"Ray," Jones called out from the entrance to the bullpen. "It's time. We got to go."

Turning to leave, Ray pressed a kiss to Francesca's cheek and grabbed his suit jacket.

Welsh grunted and headed back to his office. "Oh, and Detective?" 

Ray turned around to look at his lieutenant. 

"Make sure you bring yourself and the good constable home." 

Nodding, blinking away the unexpected stinging in his eyes, Ray gave him a respectfully casual salute and followed Jones out of the station. Fraser may not always feel like he belonged in Chicago and Ray felt like an imposter in his own skin most days, a con job, but the 27th precinct had adopted them into their fold regardless. 

****

Stepping into the grand lobby of the Polynesia Hotel, Ray Kowalski, or rather Jim O'Connor stopped to survey his surroundings. Smoothly he strolled over to the reception desk and tapped on the bell for attention. 

"Yes sir, how may I help you?" a tanned, well-polished man addressed him. 

Leaning in and flashing a wide smile, Ray peered over his sunglasses. "Jim O'Connor, I'm here on the request of a Mr. D. Craig." He winked. "If you could give him a call, let him know I'm here." 

"Of course, sir. Please wait there."

The man disappeared for a few moments. Ray leaned casually against the counter, watching people come and go. The trick was to look like you belonged like you had every right to be there. It helped that he received a few appraising glances from a number of the hotel guests, which he made a point of noticing and smiling broadly at. 

"Mr. O'Connor, if you'll come with me? Mr. Craig has asked that you meet him in the bar. He said he will be down shortly and to get yourself a drink on his tab, suite 139. Here is the token." 

"Thanks." Ray accepted it and swaggered into the bar. He took position on a stool that faced the main entrance but also gave him eyes on the rest of the lounge and its patrons. Signaling the bartender he ordered a scotch on the rocks to calm his nerves and waited. 

****

Upon arriving at the hotel, Fraser had been given a room key and told to wait for the McKinleys to be in touch. When the concierge had phoned he’d been surprised they’d contacted him so soon. That was until he heard the name: Jim O'Connor. Fraser smiled at his partner's ingenuity. A Tennessee Williams' character, just like Stanley Kowalski, chosen specifically with the name of his alter ego Connor in mind.

Why Ray had risked contact, however, he was unsure. All he could surmise was that there had been a development significant enough in the case that it was urgent he be told. 

Having already shrugged off his jacket, Fraser rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, he could change later. Grabbing his key card, he headed down to the hotel bar. He found himself fidgeting nervously in the elevator at the thought of seeing Ray. It had been a long two days and he already felt emotionally fraught. He'd been feeling increasingly on edge since seeing those poor people in the back of the truck. 

Seeing Ray would help. He knew they wouldn't be able to address any personal issues between them - he wanted so much to ask about that kiss and what it meant for their relationship - but perhaps seeing him would be enough to help him focus on the job, get him through the next few days. It would have to be.

He stepped into the bar and scanned the room. It only took him a few seconds to spot Ray sitting at the bar facing his direction. Their eyes met, and Fraser felt the hairs on his arms rise as the air seemed to crackle between them. He watched Ray take a long drag of his drink, his head tilting back, exposing his throat as he swallowed. Then Ray smiled invitingly at him and threw him a wink. 

Fraser approached the bar cautiously, and his eyes were immediately drawn to Ray's lithe body, the slim suit leaving very little to the imagination. His deep purple shirt highlighted the fair skin of his upper chest, and Fraser wondered what it would taste like to lick the hollow where his throat met his collar bone. His mouth went dry when Ray got up from his seat with all the grace of a cat. He didn’t know what to expect, didn't know what Ray's cover was until his partner was already in his space and pressing a warm chaste kiss to his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed in spite of himself, and he forgot to breathe when Ray's hand slid around his waist and his mouth brushed against his ear. 

"I'm your escort as requested," Ray murmured softly. "Play along." 

"Oh… _ Oh,"  _ Blinking, Fraser forced himself to concentrate. He gave Ray a coy smile before pressing a dry kiss to his lips, both hands either side of his face. "Good lord, Jim, it is good to see you," he declared, feeling a little smug at the dazed expression on Ray's face. "You look ravishing, may I get you another drink?" 

Closing his mouth as he recovered from his surprise, Ray nodded quickly. "Yeah, I uh… a drink would be good." 

Fraser turned him towards the bar, his hand resting on the small of Ray's back as he signaled the bartender. "He'll have another."

"And for you, sir?"

"I'll have the same." 

"Feeling adventurous, Duncan?" Ray sidled up to him with a smirk so they could talk almost privately. 

"When I'm with you, I feel positively audacious." Fraser matched his playful smile and dragged a finger along Ray's jawline slowly, enjoying the catch of his breath and the dilation of his pupils. 

"Auda…aces?" Ray mouthed with a slight frown. 

Curling his fingers under Ray's chin, Fraser drew him closer to ghost his lips over Ray's mouth. "Bold enough to take risks." 

A low groan escaped Ray's parted lips, and he licked them. He reached for his drink and downed it in one, his eyes fixed on Fraser. "You're enjoying this," he leaned in a little closer, his hand coming up to tease the little curl of hair at the back of Fraser's neck. 

"More than is appropriate." Fraser cast a longing glance at Ray. Putting down his glass, he turned to Ray and tugged him closer by the lapels of his blazer. "Given the circumstances," he murmured into Ray's ear, "I hope you can forgive my selfish audacity." 

Ray’s eyes closed when Fraser mouthed slowly over his ear. "Will forgive anything you want in your room," he murmured, seemingly lost in the moment. Ray’s toned firm body was utterly and wonderfully pliant against him.

Chuckling, Fraser grabbed his hand and kissed the fingers tenderly as he got to his feet. "You only ever need to ask, Jim." He flashed him a bright smile and guided him out of the bar, his hand resting between Ray's shoulder blades. 

Unbeknownst to the two men now leaving the bar together, their every move was scrutinised and followed by dark eyes sitting tucked away in the corner of the lounge. Swallowing the hard liquor in one, Taylor's upper lip curled in a twisted mix of lust and anger. The glass in his hand shattered into pieces. 

****

Standing in the elevator, Fraser murmured, "camera in the corner," into Ray's ear making him shudder at the nearness of him. The sound of Fraser's voice low and inviting moved through his body like warm molasses, settling in his groin. It made thinking clearly nigh on impossible. He could melt butter with a voice like that. 

Ray understood that the charade had to continue and turned to face Fraser as the doors slid shut. It could never be said that Ray Kowalski was a guy who wasted an opportunity. Grabbing fistfuls of Fraser's shirt, he yanked him flush and kissed him hard, plunging his tongue into Fraser’s warm wet mouth. Much to Ray's surprise and pleasure, Fraser didn't back away or resist. In fact, his arms wrapped tightly around Ray's body, one squeezing his waist, the other around his shoulders with Fraser's hand fisting in his hair. Ray couldn't have moved away if he wanted to, Fraser held him in a death grip like he was the only thing keeping him afloat. 

There was nothing playful about their kiss either. It was wet, urgent and heated, their mouths crushed together as their tongues tangled together. Fraser tasted like the lingering sweetness of scotch and, God, did he know what to do with his tongue. Ray gasped as his head was pulled back by his hair and a hot wet line was licked up the front of his neck. "Fuck!" Fraser's mouth was back on his before he could utter anything else, and his tongue explored every inch of Ray's mouth. Ray was dizzy with the fierce intensity of it. He felt like he was drowning in Fraser and could only groan when his body responded eagerly. 

The elevator pinged and Ray's mouth was finally free. He panted for air, his cock straining uncomfortably in his trousers. Feeling his cheeks burning, Ray was glad that Fraser was too busy urgently dragging him out of the elevator to notice as he adjusted himself. Getting a hard-on for his partner from just a kiss while undercover was not buddies and his dick really needed to get the memo. Even if Fraser had started it. 

Fraser palmed the door and dragged Ray inside, locking it behind them. He stopped and rested his forehead against it, breathing heavily before turning round to face Ray. "Dear Lord, Ray," he breathed, his tongue sweeping over his lower lip. "The things you do to me." His eyes widened as it finally caught up to him what they'd been doing. "I'm so sorry for being so… so."

"Hot as fuck?" 

Fraser bit his lip. "Libidinous."

"That Canadian for horny?" Ray grinned. He let his eyes roam over Fraser’s body and couldn't help the smug satisfaction that his wasn't the only cock that had gotten a little too excited. Fraser was hard. Fraser was hard for him. That sort of blew Ray's mind. It definitely didn't help his situation any, and he shifted his stance to relieve some of the pressure in his pants.

Fraser blinked, finally starting to get his breathing under control. "Yes, Ray." He managed a weak smile. "I should have shown more restraint," he added apologetically. 

Ray let out a breathy laugh and stared at Fraser. "Pretty sure most of what we just did was mutual, Frase, so, uh, don't go feeling guilty on me now." 

Nodding, Fraser finally peeled himself from the door. "Understood." He stood awkwardly in front of Ray looking somewhat lost and more than a little speechless. 

Oh God, he'd broken the Mountie. Ray tried not to smirk. "You okay?" 

"Yes…I," Fraser rubbed his eyebrow and tugged his ear, his face flushing a deep pink. "I need to change. I'll be just a minute." 

"No problem. We, uh, got a situation we need to discuss." 

"I had suspected as much," Fraser replied from the other room. 

"It's about Connor--" Ray turned just as Fraser reappeared, shrugging a white shirt over his broad shoulders, his chest bare, that fake tattoo practically glowing on his chest. Ray couldn't tear his eyes away and gaped, his words dying on his lips. 

"Ray?" Blushing furiously, Fraser stepped closer, his shirt hanging open, momentarily forgotten. 

Ray found himself captivated by the heat in Fraser's gaze and closed his eyes letting out a slow calming breath. 

"Ray?" Fraser reached out and tentatively touched Ray's arm. 

Keeping his eyes tightly closed, feeling the warmth of Fraser roll over him, Ray clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now,  _ Benton _ ."

"I assure you," Fraser started, his voice low and wanton. "I have some idea."

Taking a deep breath, Ray stepped forward, his eyes still closed. He splayed his hands over Fraser's smooth chest. "The things I want to do…God!" 

****

His breathing shallow, Fraser waited. He knew they couldn't, not here, not now. "I know," he whispered. He held Ray's gaze when his eyes snapped open. There was such fire in those grey-blue depths, such emotion, heartbreak, love, hope. Fraser knew there was a very good chance his heart would be burnt to ashes, yet he wanted him anyway, wanted everything Ray would give him and more.

Pressing his lips together, Ray curled his fingers a little into Fraser's chest, closed his eyes and shook his head. Slowly he began to button up Fraser's shirt, smoothing the white fabric against his skin. "We can't… not now…" He paused when Fraser's hands closed around his, holding them still above his heart. 

Fraser knew Ray could feel his heart beating hard and fast beneath his fingers and cautiously looked at his partner. He smiled wistfully, rubbing his thumbs over Ray's knuckles. "It's alright, Ray."

Ray nodded and reluctantly pulled away, steadying himself against the nearby sofa. 

"You were telling me about Connor?" 

Flicking a sidelong look at Fraser, Ray seemed put out at how quickly and efficiently he locked down his feelings, his wants. He'd been doing that his whole life, it was nothing new to him, though it made Ray look like he wanted to hit something. 

"Yeah, uh, we found out it was Meredith who carried out the hit. You can't trust her, Fraser, and I'm not happy about you staying in this with her knowing who you are."

Stunned at the news, Fraser finished tucking in his shirt and frowned. "What possible reason could she have for targeting Connor if she was working for the FBI?"

"We don't know, we haven't figured that out yet. But I don't think she's on our side. I'm pissed they released her, but apparently it would have raised suspicions or some shit." Ray frowned and let out a long sigh, his eyes studying his partner for a long moment. His voice was soft, urgent when he spoke again. "Pull out of this, Ben, we'll find another way."

His heart ached at the sound of his name spoken in that quiet desperate plea. In spite of himself, he shook his head, a frown creasing his skin. He would give Ray anything else, everything in his power, but he couldn't give him this. Fraser ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "I can't Ray, those people--"

"--Are not your responsibility, Fraser!" 

"If they're not mine, then whose?" Fraser snapped back. 

"God, I knew you would do this," Ray growled out, running both hands through his hair. "Whatever reason she had to kill Connor she's got double the reason to kill you."

"That doesn't even make sense!" Fraser argued. "We don't even know her reason for killing him. We cannot presume. All the more reason I need to stay and see this through."

Ray glared at his partner, his hands clenching the sofa so tightly his knuckles were white. 

"I know you're concerned for me, Ray," Fraser softened, not wanting to fight and stepped closer, holding his partner's hard glare, his voice earnest. "I promise you I'm not taking an undue risk here. The FBI needs to know the location of the auctions…those people…" his face screwed up in despair at the memory of them huddled in a truck and then led helplessly to a cell. Closing his eyes he let himself breathe for a few seconds. Then he looked steadfastly at his partner, straightened and held firm. "Dealing with Meredith is secondary." 

Dropping his head in defeat, Ray punched the sofa. "I hate it when you're right." He jabbed a finger through the air at Fraser. "You die, Fraser, I'm going to be really really pissed."

Grimacing a little and licking his lip, Fraser cocked his head to the side and gave his partner a mildly puzzled raise of an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be overly pleased about that myself, Ray."

"Well good!" Ray planted his hands on his hips, exposing more of that distracting purple shirt. "Glad to know you don't have a deathwish."

Staring at the shirt, Fraser frowned. "Ray is that Ray's shirt, Ray Vecchio's?--"

"--Don't even go there, Frase." Ray managed a sly grin. "We were in a crunch and I didn’t have anything in my own closet that would work."

"Understood." Fraser stifled an amused smile of his own. "Purple suits you," he added, enjoying the responsive flush of Ray's cheeks. 

"Ha, freak," Ray's smile was a flustered flash of teeth as he coyly ducked his head and fiddled with a stray thread on the sofa. "Uh, you got any idea where the auction might be?" 

Right work. Tugging on his ear, Fraser lowered his gaze and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It was large, a warehouse probably, no windows and a distinct chemical odor in the air." 

"Chemical, huh." Ray shook his head. "That's not much to go on."

"Another good reason why I--"

A knock on the door had both men staring at each other in confusion. Fraser pointed at Ray only for Ray to shake his head. Ray reached a hand up to his side unconsciously as though reaching for the gun that would have been in its holster had he been wearing it.

****

Fraser gestured for Ray to get out of sight, so Ray got in the closet and pulled the sliding door shut, leaving enough of a gap to peer through and listen. 

“Duncan, I know you’re in there, open up it’s me.” 

“Taylor? If you don’t mind, I’m quite tired.” 

Ray could hear a soft laugh and scowled, what could the man possibly want?

“Come on, I need to talk to you about something…it’s about those McKinley guys. It’s why I left early.” 

Through the gap in the closet door, Ray saw Fraser hesitate and cast a look in his direction. If this was something about the case, then Fraser needed to open the door, but Ray had a really bad feeling about it and wished to God he had his gun. 

“Alright, but just for a few moments,” Fraser relented.

“Sure thing, boss, whatever you need.” 

Keeping as still as possible, Ray listened as the door was opened and Taylor entered the room, closing the door behind him. Ray wasn’t prepared for the sudden rapid movement of the large man. He saw him grab Fraser with both hands lifting him off the floor and slamming him bodily into the closet door. 

“Where is he, huh?” Taylor snarled. “Where you hiding the little slut?”

Ray staggered back as the door shut and warped under the force of the blow and he heard Fraser’s grunt of pain as he was dragged away. This was bad. Very very bad. He tried to yank the door open, but it was jammed. Hearing Taylor laughing as he’d realised where Ray was, Ray’s blood went cold. 

“Oh good, he gets to listen to you scream for me before I kill him in front of you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Fraser sounded shaken and angry.

“Like you don’t know, you fucking pig.”

Swearing, Ray fought with the door as the sounds of a violent struggle erupted outside the closet. Fraser was putting up one hell of a fight if Taylor’s bellows of frustration and pain were anything to go by. Then he heard the smash of the glass coffee table and Fraser cry out in pain. Followed by the dull heavy thud of a body hitting the floor. There was a moment's silence before Taylor was speaking again, a voice filled with hateful intent.

“Try saying no to me now!  _ Mon tabarnak j'vais te décâlisser la yeule, câlice! _ ”

Ray started kicking at the door frantically, bracing himself against the back wall. The menace of the words he did understand and what they implied had Ray bodily throwing himself against the closet door. Finally, he burst free and staggered forward. The sight of Fraser on the floor, trying to crawl away from Taylor through broken glass as the man loomed over him and grabbed his legs to drag him back made Ray see red. 

He launched himself over the sofa and landed on Taylor’s back, hoping to get his arm around the man’s neck. Taylor grunted and leaned back, grabbing at Ray, trying to throw him off. Ray was much lighter than Taylor and it wasn’t long before he was thrown into the nearest wall. Taylor marched over and picked him up by the throat. Ray choked and struggled, kicking out at him to no avail, the man was just too damn big.

He wheezed painfully, all the air forced out of him as a large fist collided with his rib cage. He felt, rather than heard, the distinct crack of at least one of his ribs. Gasping, he glared at the man, spying Fraser coming up behind him with the cast iron leg of the destroyed coffee table in his hand. “That all... you got…?” he goaded defiantly, keeping Taylor’s attention on him. 

“ _ Mange d’la marde! _ ” Taylor growled out before his fist slammed into Ray’s face too fast for Fraser to stop him. 

Ray saw stars with the punch and grunted as he dropped to the floor heavily. Taylor had let go of him in surprise and pain at Fraser’s attack and had turned his attention to him. 

With shooting pains in his side, Ray scrambled to his feet to help, shaking his head in an attempt to see straight. Hearing the sound of the door crashing open, Ray didn’t get a chance to reach Fraser before two more guys stormed into the room. One of them came straight for him, and adrenaline allowed Ray to swing a hard punch, sending the guy sprawling on his back. 

The second man was by Ray’s side before he could turn and whipped the butt of his gun so hard across his temple that Ray saw white before he crumpled to a heap. Fraser’s horrified voice hollering his name rang through his skull. Fraser, afraid, was one of the worst sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Eventually, it too faded and Ray welcomed the silence.

****

"What the fuck have you done?" 

Meredith held up her hands as Joseph stalked towards her with violent intent. "I had to do it, had to make the call before he--"

"--without consulting me!?"

"There was no time," she licked her lips, her eyes wide. "He's a cop Joe, a fucking Mountie," she hissed urgently. 

"So you felt justified in going behind the Mckinleys’ backs? Justified in removing a man they've got their eye on, they want to work with, without telling a fucking soul?" Joseph grabbed a wrist and yanked her to him. "Are you fucking unhinged?" 

"He would have ruined everything, Joe, he knows about what you plan to do…I heard him telling that partner of his he was going to go to Patrick as soon as he got their trust." 

Joseph glared at her, his chest heaving with rage. "The big guy?"

Meredith nodded eagerly. "I talked him round, gave him a better offer. The man likes being dicked around by a cop about as much as we do." 

Narrowing his eyes at her Joseph tightened his grip on her wrist, relishing the gasp of pain that escaped her lips. “Did you have him killed?” 

She shook her head, breathless. “I knew you’d want me to wait for you. That we have to deal with the Mckinleys first.” 

“I’ll take him to them, let them do the dirty work.”

“You can’t tell them he’s a cop. You know how they feel about cop killing.”

Joseph grunted with annoyance, shoving Meredith away and lighting a cigarette. “Bad for business.” He blew out a cloud of blue-grey smoke. “What are you suggesting?”

“Tell them he’s an informant, drug him so he can’t talk and get us killed, then get them to put him in their auction, he’d bring a pretty sum.”

A smile spread across Joseph’s face. “They’d consider it karmic justice for his betrayal.” 

“Exactly.”

“Prepare him. Kill the other one, he’s too unpredictable.” 

“Already taken care of,” Meredith smirked darkly. 

****

Fraser came to slowly, feeling like he was floating for an instant before the blinding pain in his head dragged him mercilessly back to full conscious awareness. He was in a vehicle, his hands tightly bound behind him. The air was hot, stifling, and the scratchy hood over his head was making it difficult to breathe. 

Opening his eyes, he winced at the pain. One eye wouldn't open fully and his bottom lip felt huge. Running his tongue over it he felt the split and dried blood. His body ached terribly. Taylor had unleashed his rage and used him as a punching bag once he and his accomplices had manhandled him out of the hotel's service entrance. 

The attack in his room came flooding back with terrifying clarity and his breath caught at the memory of Ray dropping like a stone. The sight of him looking broken on the floor, unmoving, his head covered in blood made Fraser dizzy and nauseated. Ray couldn't be… he couldn’t bear thinking about the possibility of him being... he shuddered and fought to get his breathing under control. Now was not the time to panic. 

"We're here."

Fraser didn’t recognise the voice, it wasn't Taylor. 

"She said to wait. To keep him alive until they get here." 

"Yeah, tell that to that other guy," the first voice retorted unhappily. "Thought he was gonna beat him to death when we got there." 

There was a grunt of acknowledgment followed by an uncomfortable silence.

Fraser's heart thumped impossibly hard in his chest, icy dread rushing through him at the thought of being left alone, defenseless with Taylor. 

****

A short while later, disoriented, Fraser stumbled as he was dragged out the vehicle. He could only see fuzzy images through the dark hood, nothing distinct, but the air once again smelled distinctly of chemicals, chemicals he knew he’d smelled before but couldn’t place. He tilted his head to try and get a better smell but was unceremoniously shoved to his knees.

"Take it off." 

The hood was removed and Fraser blinked as the sudden bright light stabbed his vision with coloured spots. 

"Constable Fraser, I had hoped to never see you again, but you have an irritating habit of interfering in other people's business." 

"When that business happens to be nefariously criminal, a pathological habit." Fraser glared at the woman who had potentially caused the death of his partner. "Ms. DuPont," he greeted icily. 

“I’m only doing what you would do in my position. I have a plan, you see, and I’m not letting you, nor anyone else, get in the way of that. I’m only covering my back. You’re a cop, you know how it goes.” 

“I was never any threat to you.” Fraser glared at her. “You can excuse it however you want, it will never make it right.”

“They killed my brother and I’m going to make them pay for it,” she snapped harshly. “With everything they have. Surely a man of your moral virtue can understand that much.”

Fraser eyed her sympathetically. “Revenge is not justice, Meredith. Does Joseph know of your plans, know of you colluding with the FBI?” 

Meredith merely smiled. “Now, now Constable, the less you know the better it will be for you. Now hold still, this is going to sting.”

Fraser tensed as the man behind him grabbed him and pulled his head to one side, exposing his neck. He gritted his teeth when Meredith stuck a needle in his neck and a cool fluid flooded through his skin. "You won't get away with this," he hissed.

She laughed and gave him a piteous glance. "Oh Constable, that's what all the condemned say."

His vision began to blur and it felt like the room was swaying as he tried to focus on Meredith. As the other man joined her and he peered up blearily at him. Taylor leered down at him. “No…” he muttered and tried to shove himself away when Taylor lunged for him. Still bound and now woozy from the drug, he only managed to fall onto his side, his head smacking against the floor. 

“Stop.” 

Fraser blinked up at Meredith’s command, unable to speak, his mouth fuzzy and his tongue overly large. 

“I did what you wanted. Now I get what’s coming to me.” Taylor growled.

“Yes, you do.”

Fraser couldn’t move away from Taylor as he loomed over him, whatever Meredith had injected him with had rendered him virtually incapacitated yet still conscious, though he wasn’t sure for how much longer. The sharp crack of a gunshot made every muscle in his body jerk with reflex and Taylor’s head exploded above him, splattering him with brain matter, leaving him gasping in shock and struggling to breathe as the large man collapsed on him. He stared wide-eyed up at Meredith, unable to articulate his horror and disgust. 

Leaning over him, Meredith’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “What? You preferred the alternative?” She gestured for her accomplice to get rid of the body. “He got what was coming to him.” 

****

_ "Ray! Ray! RAY!" _

"Fraser!"

A strong arm pressed against his chest as he regained consciousness sharply, Fraser's name on his lips, his body arching upright in panic. A cry of pain escaped his throat, his side feeling like it had been run through with a skewer. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Jones leaned over him, keeping his hand on his chest, gently easing him back into lying down. "It's alright, you're in the hospital."

Sinking back onto the pillow, Ray gasped as the pain subsided. "Fraser?" Jones' tight pale expression, told him all he needed to know. "No!" he keened and squirmed, trying to escape the bed once more. "They took him. Fuck, he's in danger, he could be, we gotta find him!"

"Ray, you're in no condition to go anywhere. We've got a team on the ground looking for the constable."

"All the fucking good it did him!" Ray spat out. 

"Detective," Welsh's deep rumble cut through Ray's anger. 

A nurse who had arrived with the Lieutenant came to his bedside to examine him. Ray squirmed and winced as he was carefully poked and prodded and a light shone in his eyes.

"Everything looks normal. We checked you for a subdural haematoma and your scans came back clear. You still may have a concussion, so we're going to keep you in for observation. The doctor will be here to speak with you shortly."

Ray blinked as she left and threw a pleading look at Welsh. "Lieu, we gotta help Fraser."

Holding up a placating hand, Welsh gave Ray a look of understanding sympathy. "We're doing everything we can to try and find the constable. I've got uniforms on the ground."

"What about his tracker?" Ray looked between Welsh and Jones. 

"It's a five-mile radius," Jones explained apologetically. "It gives us a grid to search in, but against the clock…" 

Ray didn’t need him to say it. "Fuck." He sat up gingerly this time. 

"Ray, what are you doing?" 

"I can't stay here while Fraser's out there, I have to help, I have to--"

"--You'll do no such thing," Welsh commanded firmly. "You're injured, you have a concussion, so the best thing you can do now is, give us a statement, tell us what happened."

"I'm fine," Ray bit out. 

"I wasn't asking, Detective." 

Meeting Welsh's hard gaze, Ray sagged. He looked up when the lieutenant's hand landed on his shoulder. 

"I know it's difficult, Ray but we're doing everything we can. Tell us what happened, let us do our jobs." 

Wilting and slowly lying back in the bed, Ray told them everything. Jones darted out to look at chemical plants within the search grid when he'd finished while Welsh lingered. "Lieu, they're going to kill him."

Letting out a sigh, Welsh's mouth twisted. "They didn't kill him at the hotel when they had the chance, which means they want him alive." 

"Don't give me that shit, sir. You know how it goes down when an undercover agent is made by the mob." 

The Lieutenant didn't argue, simply looked Ray in the eyes steadily, looking older and more haggard than usual. "We'll find him, Ray." Yeah, one way or another they would. They both knew the score. The more time that passed, the higher the chances that Fraser would end up on a slab in Mort's lab.

The bottom dropped out of Ray's stomach at that image and he fought the bile rising in his throat. Fraser was going to die because he couldn't ever let go, never said no to those in need. Ray was terrified and beyond angry. At least the Lieutenant wasn't attempting to sugarcoat the situation. Fraser was in danger and the clock was ticking. 

Clenching his fists helplessly in the bedsheets, Ray turned away from Welsh's pitying look and glared at the wall when he patted his shoulder.

"Try to get some rest, Ray. You know Fraser wouldn’t want you running around trying to find him with a potential bleed on your brain. I'll keep you updated." Then he left.

Ray listened carefully to the noises outside his room and when he was sure the Lieutenant had left, he slowly heaved himself out of the bed. Wrapping an arm around his middle, slightly hunched over he padded over to his pile of clothes folded next to his bed. Taking a few deep breaths, he began the slow, painful process of getting dressed. 

He knew for certain that Fraser wouldn’t want him to, especially in his current state. There was also no doubt in Ray’s mind that Fraser would already be out on the streets looking for him were their situations reversed. 

He gasped as he pulled on the shirt and steadied himself when his vision swam. He could do this. He'd been hurt worse. The thought of losing Fraser spurred him on. 

He'd always expected to lose Fraser to Canada, or a bad shoot out where they went out together, saving the day or some shit. Even to Vecchio if he ever came back, but to this? Alone. God knows where. Having who knows what done to him. He would not let it happen. Fraser was not going out like that. Not now, not ever. 

Ray felt like he'd somehow failed his partner, his best friend, right when they'd finally started exploring whatever it was evolving between them. 

It wasn't fucking fair! 

He roughly wiped a hand over his eyes to stave off the sting of unshed tears and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Shoving his feet into his shoes, he moved stiffly to the door. "I'm coming, Ben," he murmured to himself. "Just hold on until I get there." 

****

Ray winced as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. The cab had gotten him there in record time for which he was grateful. When he opened the door, he was struck by the sight of Fraser's peacoat on his coat rack. His stomach lurched with a hollow pang and he felt sick. Fraser had left it there by accident when they'd had breakfast together the other day. Ray felt somewhat guilty about it as he'd gotten Fraser quite flustered beforehand by walking around his apartment in just his boxers. Fraser had planned to pick it up that evening after work before everything had gone to shit.

A fond smile tugged at his lips remembering just how bashful Fraser had been with him afterward and he brushed his hand over the coat. He leaned in and sure enough it still smelled faintly of Fraser. His heart skipped a beat. Fuck, he had it bad. Ray wasn't quite sure when his attraction had turned into actual feelings, real deep, intense feelings, but it scared the shit out of him for a whole host of reasons he couldn't think about right then. 

His smile froze and his fingers gripped the coat tightly when the thought that Fraser may not wear it again punched him in the gut. The cloying feeling in his chest and throat was suffocating, he hadn't felt anything like it since Stella had sent him divorce papers. That had been bad but this was so much worse. It hurt like he was bleeding out all over the floor and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Scowling, Ray threw his keys on the kitchen counter and made his way to his bedroom. Stripping off his jacket and shirt took way more time than he wanted due to the pain in his side. In frustration, Ray pulled the purple shirt over his head without unbuttoning it. 

Rooting through his bathroom cabinet he found some painkillers and popped a few, washing them down with water. He stole a glance at himself in the bathroom mirror, he looked like he hadn't slept for a month. Splashing his face, he went back to his room, grabbed a t-shirt and his spare holster and gun. His main piece was with Jones in the van where he'd left it when he'd done his male escort stint. It was not having his gun that had gotten Fraser snatched. Sudden rage and guilt had Ray clenching his fist and slamming it into his bedroom wall before he'd gotten a hold of himself. His ribs instantly protested and he hissed with the pain.

Breathing hard, he forced himself to think. They needed to find Fraser and quick. If Fraser were there and looking for Ray, he would already be tracking him by the mud on his shoes or the smell of his hair gel or something just as freaky. Ray's eyes widened, "Smell. Dief, yes!" 

He grabbed his jacket and now that the painkillers had started kicking in, he moved much faster to the door. Picking up his car keys, he felt a renewed sense of hope. If anybody could find Fraser in this city, it was his deaf half-wolf.

****

Ray violated several traffic laws in getting to the consulate. The sad thing was he actually missed listening to Fraser's disapproving lecture about it. His phone rang for the third time since he'd left his apartment. He knew who it would be. "Yeah, Lieu--"

_ "--do you have any idea of the hot water you're in, Detective?" _

"I couldn't just stay in the hospital. I have to find him…"

_ "I gave you an order. We can't do our job if you're running around kicking mob heads in." _

"Lieu, I'm crazy, not stupid. I've been through this rodeo before. You know the Feds won't prioritise finding Fraser over nailing the Mckinleys. I gotta do this with or without your say so." Ray heard the heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

_ "Should have figured a smack on the skull wasn't enough to keep you from testing my every nerve. Where are you now?"  _

"Consulate, grabbing Dief."

_ "His wolf?" _

"Nobody tracks like a wolf, Sir."

_ "Huh, that's good thinking."  _

Ray smirked. "Stranger things have happened. I'll need to go back to the hotel, grab something Fraser was wearing recently."

_ "I'll get one of the Feds to bring it to you. Jones was looking for you. They got a ping off Fraser's tracker, they've narrowed the search grid. It's within five miles of the river." _

"That's great, a damn sight better than ten. Dief'll find him." 

_ "Call me when you do, don't go up against anyone without backup. I mean it."  _

"You can count on it. Thanks, sir."

_ "Hmpff, don't thank me, just find him, bring him home." _

"I will," Ray answered with a conviction he wished he felt.

****

Fraser couldn’t understand why everything was dark. His head was foggy, the floor seemed to move beneath him. Was he on a boat again? He hoped they weren’t underwater, Ray couldn’t swim, although he had been taking lessons. Fraser was pretty certain, however, that  _ he _ would not be able to swim given that his arms felt like lead weights. He stumbled when somebody grabbed his arm and roughly dragged him, forcing him to walk. It wasn’t dark, there was something over his head and he could hear voices. 

“What is the meaning of this, Joseph?” 

He recognised that voice. Patrick McKinley, why was he here? Where even was here? He started to feel quite nauseous. 

“There’s been a development. We found out this fucker has been feeding info to the Feds. He betrayed us.” 

“You have proof of this?” 

“You know I do, I wouldn’t bring him to you like this if I didn’t.” Joseph shoved Fraser to his knees when he stumbled again. 

“You drugged him.”

“He resisted,” Joseph stated blandly. “Remember those crates we got busted on the border a few weeks ago and the Feds being all over our case here in Chicago?” 

Patrick didn’t answer. 

Joseph continued. “We caught him in the hotel with his contact - an undercover agent posing as an escort.” 

“I did hear about the mess at the hotel.”

“Yeah, the cocksucker he was with put up a hell of a fight. Our guys sorted him out, he won’t be a problem.”

Fraser frowned, Ray, that was Ray, but Joseph was lying, he hadn’t been there. Ray wasn’t...he couldn’t be. He groaned and shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but only made himself feel more nauseated. 

“Damn. I liked this one. What happened to his partner, the big guy?” 

“Dead. He wasn’t in on it, got too close to Duncan here and got shot in the head for his trouble.” 

Lies, it was all lies. What was Joseph hiding? Was he working with Meredith, because she certainly wasn’t working with him. Fraser realised that Joseph probably didn’t know of Meredith’s plans or of her working with the FBI. That was why she’d blown his cover. She was protecting herself. Connor, or rather Duncan, must have found out too, so she’d had him killed. 

Meredith was playing both sides in a dangerous game. All in a desperate gamble for revenge, which, no matter how many lives she sacrificed in pursuit of her goal, still wouldn’t bring her brother back to life.. And she’d probably signed his death warrant to get it. Even if his head wasn’t swimming with whatever drugs they’d injected him with, he couldn’t see a way out of this. 

“If he’s working with the Feds, we’ve got to be careful, make him disappear,” Joseph was explaining. 

“What do you suggest?” 

“Put him in the auction.” 

Fraser could hear the man’s smile. 

“A face and body like his will fetch a high price. After the initial sale and settlement, we can take him to one of our establishments out of state, rent him out by the hour. Customers will pay whatever we ask. He’ll be so drugged up he won’t remember his own name. Bit of karmic justice for betrayal wouldn’t you say, Patrick?” 

“It has a dark poetry to it that I like,” Patrick answered. “Keep him docile.” 

Blinking at the sudden influx of light when the hood was lifted, Fraser peered blearily up at Patrick smirking down on him. 

“Looks like you’ll still be of use to me yet, Duncan. I’ll be sure to send your used up corpse back to your affiliates in Canada when my clients have had their fill of you. Nobody betrays the McKinley family and gets away with it.” He lifted Fraser’s face by his chin, gripping it firmly. “When they’re through with you, you’ll wish that we had simply put a bullet in your brain and dumped you in the lake. You had such potential.” 

“I’ll put him in with the others.” Joseph hauled Fraser to his feet. 

“Joseph, don’t ever do something like this again without coming to me first.” Patrick's voice had a hard edge to it. 

Joseph stiffened and met Patrick’s steady gaze. 

“Anyone betrays the McKinley family, the McKinleys deal with it, understood?” 

“I- yeah. Understood, a hundred percent.” Joseph swallowed and left, pulling a drugged, but not completely incapacitated Mountie along with him as Patrick watched him leave. 

Another man stepped out of the shadows behind Patrick. 

Pulling on his cigar, Patrick pursed his lips. “Follow him.” 

“You got it.” 

****

“Detective Vecchio, what a nice surprise,” Turnbull smiled brightly at Ray as he entered the building, his pink feather duster immediately drawing Ray's attention. “Constable Fraser is unavailable at the moment.” 

Ray blinked and stared at the man, speaking slowly. “Yeah, I know. He’s undercover, I’m working the case.” 

“Ah. I wasn’t sure, Constable Fraser did not think I needed to be privy to the details, which is quite understandable given that it is a federal case. What can I help you with?” 

“I’m here for the wolf.” 

“Oh well, Diefenbaker is under my care at the moment at the express request of Constable Fraser. He stated under no circumstances is Diefenbaker to leave the consulate unsupervised as he might get himself into bother.” 

Ray rubbed his forehead. “He won’t be unsupervised. He’ll be with me and it’s really important that I get him.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you. I made a promise to Constable Fraser.”

“He’ll understand. He’ll even thank you,” Ray insisted, moving past the Mountie. 

Turnbull jumped in front of him and smiled. “I must insist.” 

“Turnbull, move or I’m going to kick you in the head.” 

“That really would be inadvisable, Detective, and there is no need to resort to violence. I am merely doing my duty to protect Constable Fraser’s only companion." Turnbull looked like somebody had just told him curling was canceled for the rest of the year. It would have been funny if Ray wasn't on the clock. "He was quite adamant that Diefenbaker would be overly concerned at his absence and could get into trouble trying to find him, which he did not want, so you see, I cannot in good conscience let him leave with you.” 

Taking a deep breath, Ray counted to ten; losing his temper would just make the man batten down the hatches and set up camp. He wondered vaguely if being a stubborn freak was a requirement of the RCMP. “Turnbull, Renfield, Ren, can I call you Ren?" Ray didn't wait for him to answer. "Fraser  _ is _ in trouble with a capital T. So I need Dief to do exactly what Fraser didn’t want him to do, which is to find him. If we don’t find him soon, he’s dead. D E D dead. Do you understand me?” 

Turnbull’s mouth had dropped open and he gaped at Ray. “He said under no circumstances…”

“...Pretty sure, right now, he would make an exception. So I need you to get the wolf, right  _ fucking _ now.” He paused and added, because Turnbull was starting to hyperventilate, "please, thank you kindly." That snapped him out of it. 

“Of course, I’ll go get him. He’s currently in a time out for eating Inspector Thatcher’s dinner.” Turnbull rushed into the other room but stopped in the doorway. “I am terribly sorry, Ray, I had no idea things had taken such a turn. Is there anything I can do to help?” He paused looking flummoxed and somewhat dazed. 

“The wolf, Ren, get me the wolf!” 

“Oh! Right you are!” He dashed off and Ray shook his head and resisted the urge to pace while he waited. 

Behind him, the consulate door opened and Jones marched into the building. He gave Ray a wan smile. “You look like shit.” 

“Tell me about it,” Ray grumbled. “Did you bring something Fraser was wearing?” 

Jones held out the black shirt. “It was in the hotel room, hadn’t been touched. Will it help?”

"Hope so."

"So you and the constable?" Jones asked casually. "How long has that been going on?"

Ray's gaze locked onto Jones and he opened his mouth before snapping it shut.

Holding up his hands, Jones smiled. "Hey, no judgment. It's just Fraser still had the bug on him when you went to his suite. I heard your conversation."

Letting out a long sigh, Ray rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit, I uh…yeah. It's not a thing, at least not yet," he scowled.

Jones laid a hand on his arm. "We'll find him."

Clearing his throat, Ray nodded. "Yeah, Welsh said you got a ping?"

Jones nodded. "We're doing a grid search. It's in the industrial district near the water treatment plant. I'm to take you there now. The lieutenant said you had an asset we needed. Wallis is pissed." 

Ray smirked darkly. "Well, he's going to love this." Turnbull reappeared with Diefenbaker who bounded excitedly over to Ray when he saw him. 

Jones' eyes widened when Ray crouched down and held the wolf's muzzle. "A dog? Your asset is a dog?"

"Dief, I need you to understand. We have to find Fraser. He's in trouble. We're out of time." Ray pinched his nose, putting his faith in the hope that a deaf half-wolf understood him was the height of craziness. It summed up his life since he'd been partnered with a Mountie though, so he wasn't one to complain about results. 

"We're getting as close as we can to where we think he is, but then it's up to you." He held up the black shirt, letting Dief sniff at it. "Can you do it?" Dief yipped and started for the door. He looked back at Ray and growled before barking urgently a couple of times. 

"Alright, good, thanks, Ren" Ray clapped Turnbull’s shoulder pointedly ignoring the fact he was sobbing into his handkerchief. He met Jones' astonished gaze. "Not a dog, he's a wolf. What's more, he's Fraser's wolf. He won't stop until he finds him." Ray threw the stunned man a quick grin and followed the wolf out of the building, Fraser's shirt still held tightly in his fist. "Pitter-patter, let's get at ‘er."

Jones rubbed his face in disbelief and followed, muttering that Wallis was going to burst a blood vessel when he found out. 

****

“She’s lying to you,” his words sounded slurred, his voice not his own as he was shoved into a dimly lit room, falling to the ground, his legs refusing to cooperate. He looked up sharply when he heard frightened whimpers and scowled with outrage when he realized these were some of the people he’d helped ferry there huddled together in the corner of the room. 

Joseph just scowled at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know I work with the police. You know I was one of the men who helped arrest Meredith at the hospital,” Fraser continued, pushing himself up to sit against the wall, his legs feeling too wobbly to support his weight. 

“So?”

“She’s been working with the FBI.” He held Joseph’s glare, his vision gradually steadying as the drug’s effects ebbed. “Feeding them information in order to arrest the Mckinley family and stop their abhorrent human trafficking and drug smuggling. Taking you along with them.” 

Joseph narrowed his eyes and stalked his way across the room. He lifted Fraser by his shirt and shoved him hard against the wall. “You think I give a fuck about what you think you know, Mountie?”

Clenching his jaw at the painful protest of his back, Fraser lifted his chin at Joseph, refusing to yield to his intimidation tactics. His hand gripped the wrists of the man’s hands, one fisting his shirt, the other squeezing his throat. “You should...what would I gain...from lying now?”

“She’s--”

“--here…” Fraser’s voice strained against the hand closing around his throat, making it difficult to talk, “because the...FBI...allowed it.” The blow that lanced across his jaw caused his eyes to water. He tongued his bottom lip and tasted blood before meeting Joseph’s furious gaze again defiantly. “Ask her… about… the real...Duncan Craig.” 

Joseph had heard enough, Fraser grunted as he was punched again and flung to the ground. He gritted his teeth and glared over his shoulder, his limbs still not fully responding. He saw Joseph gesture to his man waiting by the door. 

“Drug him, just enough so he can still stand in the cell at auction.” 

“You got it.” the man grunted obediently. 

Wiping his bloody knuckles on a handkerchief, Joseph looked down at him, their eyes meeting in stony silence and Fraser knew the seed of doubt had been planted. If nothing else, Joseph focusing on Meredith’s betrayal would take his attention off him and give him half a chance to figure a way out of this mess before it was too late. 

****

Fraser inhaled sharply when he regained consciousness. His head was pounding and he blinked in the dark. He stilled when hesitant fingers lightly brushed the skin of his cheek. 

"You're awake."

Turning his head towards the voice, he frowned. "Who are you?"

"It's been a while since anybody asked," the voice cracked. "Joshua, I think."

Fraser frowned with concern, he sounded so young. "How old are you?" 

"Seventeen. I was grabbed after a party, had a couple of drinks too many." 

Fraser heard Joshua shift and felt his hands rest on his leg, just resting like the young man needed to hold onto something. 

"You're not like the rest of us. You fight them. I saw you when he brought you in."

"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

Joshua huffed a surprised laugh. "Never met a Mountie before." He paused and Fraser could just about make out the outline of his face. "Are we still in Canada then?"

“No, we’re in the United States. Chicago, I believe, unless we’ve been moved again.”

“Oh. What’s a Mountie doing in Chicago?”

"I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father--"

"--Damn. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I remained attached as liaison with the Canadian consulate."

Joshua was quiet for a moment. "Huh, cool man. Everybody's got a story."

"What about yours, Joshua?"

"I…I miss my mom," he whispered softly. "She’s gotta be worried sick." His hand tightened on Fraser's thigh. "Are you here to get us out?" 

"Yes, all of you," Fraser responded resolutely. "I'm working with the FBI; they will find us," he added with a certainty he did not feel. "I will not leave here without you."

Joshua let out a shaky breath. "Okay. Good, that's good. Let me help."

"It's too--"

"--fuck, man, I been kidnapped and drugged and held prisoner for God knows how long, on a scale of dangerous I think I already tipped the scale, so you're going to let me help."

Fraser couldn't think up any feasible argument at that moment, so he just sighed. The teenager's bravery and composure belied his relative youth. "As you wish. Where are we?"

"Truck. They’re taking us to the place where the customers get their money's worth."

Fraser sat up slowly. "The auction?"

The soft voice wavered. "Over. You passed out. They thought they'd given you too much, that you were OD'ing, like some of the others do."

There were flashes of light and people in his memory, but nothing substantial. He couldn't remember anything after Joseph had left. "How many of us?"

"In here? Fifteen maybe." 

"Did they drug you?" 

"They drug all of us. Guess I'm resistant or something."

"The others?"

"Conscious, barely." 

Getting to his feet, Fraser began feeling his way around the container, looking for the door. 

"It's locked from the outside." 

Before Fraser could respond, the door creaked loudly and the shriek of the bolt twisting reverberated around the container as light flooded in. Raising his arm to cover his eyes, Fraser tried to squint at whoever opened the door. 

"You just couldn't help yourself could you?" 

It was Joseph and he sounded angry. 

"I'm not doing this here. You know me, Joe! We've planned all this together. Why would you take the word of a cop over me huh? How could you?" 

With his eyes adjusting to the light, Fraser could see them arguing in the doorway. Looking around the container he counted twelve people including himself and Joshua, who was looking between him and Meredith warily. None of them were in any fit state to be of any help. He had to get them out of there. Sliding along the wall of the container he reached the other door that was still closed. He could see Meredith through the open door and it sounded like Joseph was right beside the closed one. 

Taking a deep breath, Fraser shoved it open hard.

The metal door swung, its weight carrying it forward and smacked into a solid object with a clang and a grunt as Fraser toppled out of the container. He turned quickly to find Joseph knocked out on the ground, a nasty gash on his head and Meredith pointing a gun directly at him, her eyes wide in surprise and anger. "You just had to fucking interfere, didn't you? Telling him I betrayed him, for what? To save your skin? I would've let you go, but," her upper lip curled, "now I'm going to make sure you die."

"It's over Meredith. The FBI knows where I am. It's only a matter of time until they arrive."

"Like hell they do," she retorted. "I thought Mounties didn't lie?" She sneered and raised her gun to aim at Fraser's head.

"An embellishment. They know that you killed Agent Connor and that I was taken from the hotel by your men, it’s only a matter of time before they find me," Fraser admitted calmly. He canted his head at her. "Do you really think you're going to get away with what you've done? Even if you evade capture with the FBI, the Mckinleys know you plotted against them."

Meredith paled. "They don't know shit. You're bluffing."

"They had Joseph followed. I may have been drugged, but I heard Patrick McKinley give the order. His man heard what I told Joseph about you. Do you really think they'll give you the benefit of the doubt now?"

Meredith didn't get a chance to answer. In a blur of skin and teeth and nails, Joshua leapt onto Meredith's back and punched her in the back of the head. 

Fraser grabbed the opportunity. Rushing over he knocked the gun out of her hand and kicked it away as she crumpled to the floor. Helping Joshua up, Fraser turned back to the container. "Help me get the others out." 

Working together, they managed to get most of the twelve kidnapees out of the container and Fraser directed them to wait over by a large nondescript building out of sight. He climbed back into the container to help a young woman who was barely cognizant enough to stand. He jumped out of the container to lift her frail frame to the ground. "I’ve got you, it's alright, go ov--gahh!" Fraser arched and cried out as white-hot pain lanced through his shoulder. The young woman screamed and staggered away from him. 

Gasping, Fraser stumbled against the container entrance as Meredith pulled her knife out. He half-turned, gripping her arm as she stepped into his space and ran the knife into him again. 

Fraser's mouth fell open and his breath rushed out of him when the sudden sharp pain gave way to agony spreading through his abdomen. His legs gave way when Meredith pulled the blade free and he clutched at the container in an attempt to remain standing. 

Fraser pulled himself up, one hand clutching at his side as he sucked in a couple of mouthfuls of air in an attempt to breathe through the pain. The pain morphed into something deeper and with each breath, his left lung seemed to be squeezed tighter from the inside. Opening and closing his mouth several times, panic rushed through him. He was unable to get in enough air, unable to speak. The knife had pierced through his ribs into his lung, and it had now collapsed. Struggling to breathe, his vision began to grey around the edges. 

Smirking at him darkly, Meredith grabbed his jaw roughly and pressed a hard kiss onto his mouth before shoving him bodily into the container. "It's always the good looking ones that let you down." 

Fraser tried to get himself up, rolling into his side, one arm wrapped across his middle as he dragged himself to his knees and twisted to reach the door. Meredith was nowhere to be seen when he looked up, but he saw Joshua coming back to help him. Waving his hand urgently, he caught his eyes and shook his head. The young man stopped in his tracks, his face stricken. Fraser waved him off again, it was too dangerous, Joshua couldn't help him now without being killed. 

He heard the engine of the truck start and the sudden momentum forward sent him face-first to the floor of the container. He lifted his head to see Meredith accelerating away from him with a little wave. Then his world tilted backward and he lifted off the floor of the container, his stomach lurching at the sudden weightless feeling. 

He was thrown to the back of the container when the truck hit something solid and Fraser had nothing to grab onto as the container rolled and frigid water rushed in. He barely had a chance to take as deep a breath as he could manage before he was pummeled with icy water and dragged beneath the surface. 

**** 

Meredith retrieved her gun and froze when she saw a wolf racing towards her. She lifted it and took aim, her trigger finger only stilled by the sight of the cop she had stabbed.

"CHICAGO PD, DROP THE GUN. DROP IT OR I WILL SHOOT YOU!"

It looked like the Mountie hadn't embellished all that much after all. "You have a choice, Detective," Meredith smiled. 

"Yeah, how hard I'm going to kick you in the head," Ray growled. "Now drop the fucking gun." 

Meredith moved slowly away and looked at the lake edge where the dog was barking frantically. "Your partner is currently bleeding out at the bottom of the lake. You can either waste time with me or you can try to save him." 

Eyes widening, Ray looked towards the water and at Dief pacing by the edge and then back towards Meredith. Then he saw movement beside one of the buildings and a bunch of what looked like scared, starved teenagers. One young man was staring at him and pointing frantically to the water. 

"Tick tock." She smiled. 

Ray snarled. He'd run ahead with Diefenbaker as the wolf tracked Fraser, but that meant he'd left Jones with Wallis to help with the grid search. He'd called it in when Dief got the scent so back up was on its way, but it wouldn't get here in time to stop her escaping and he didn't want Dief to get shot chasing her. Fraser would never forgive him. 

Letting out a shout of frustration, Ray pulled back his gun and sprinted towards the water. He skidded to a halt in time to see the container roll to its side and disappear into the murky waves. 

"Shit shit shit!" Ray rapidly stripped off his shoes and holster and jumped. 

****

"Grab my hand son!"

Fraser could barely think straight as his lungs burned with the lack of oxygen. He couldn't hold his breath forever, especially in the state he was in, battered and stabbed with a punctured lung. Besides, he was quite certain he'd already lost too much blood by that point for it to matter. Peering through the murky water he could see the shimmering image of his father. 'I can't… you're dead,' he thought in exasperation. Why didn't his father ever listen to him?

"Just reach up, son. It's not your time."

His eyes closed as darkness gathered around him, his body going numb. Fraser thought about how he really did not want to die. There was much he hadn't done, had left unsaid. Not to mention what it would do to Ray. His partner, his friend, his…lover? He had hoped for, at the very least, a chance for them to explore their feelings and the evolution of their friendship and partnership that had begun to define them both. To die knowing that Ray returned his affections, his desire, but they’d been unable to do much more than acknowledge it, was a tragically cruel fate.

Benton Fraser had accepted his fate his whole life. Not this time. With one final momentous effort, he thrust his hand towards the rectangle of light in one last-ditch attempt to reach the container door or reach for his father; he wasn't sure which need was stronger. As the container rolled in the water, he barely registered the strong hand closing around his arm, pulling on him forcefully. Another hand grabbed the fabric of his thin bloodied shirt and yanked, lifting him out of the freezing water a moment too late. Fraser's working lung had finally given out and the lake's icy fingers had flooded his body before his head broke through the surface.

****

"Fraser! Ben! Oh, fuck! Come on don't do this to me!" Ray was frantic as he pulled the dead weight of Fraser from the container to the nearby jetty with some difficulty - because Jesus, Fraser was heavy - silently thanking God he'd taken those swimming lessons after the Henry Allen case. Dragging him onto the wooden decking, Ray saw that Fraser's parted lips were purple, his eyes were open and glassy, pupils too big and dark. Not breathing. "No no no no!" 

Ray immediately pressed two fingers against Fraser’s throat to check for a pulse. Finding it there but weak, he gently turned Fraser’s head to the side to clear his mouth of water and then with shaky hands tilted it back. He put his ear to Fraser’s mouth and counted to ten in his head. Fraser still wasn't breathing. Wasting no time, Ray sealed his lips over Fraser's cold ones, pinched his nose and breathed into him steadily. "You do not get to do this to me! Come on, Ben!" He breathed for his partner again. "Fucking come on! Don't you dare give up now!" 

Ray breathed again into his unresponsive partner, his eyes watching his chest fall as he pulled away. "Please, Ben, please don't die, don't leave me…" his voice caught in his throat. He breathed for him again, going dizzy himself from the effort. Fraser’s cold body suddenly lurched beneath him and he scrambled off his partner, pushing him onto his side as he violently coughed up a torrent of water mixed with blood. His breaths were ragged and wet catching in his throat as he struggled to breathe. 

"Ray…" Fraser managed to gasp out his voice hoarse and broken. 

Ray's heart was hammering in his chest. There was so much blood. He searched Fraser's body frantically, finding two stab wounds. The one in his shoulder seemed clean, bloody but not gushing. The second pierced between his ribs and was oozing too much blood. Way too much. Ray roughly swore, lifted up Fraser's shirt and pressed a hand firmly against the wound, wincing when Fraser twisted and let out a strangled cry of pain that stabbed straight through Ray's heart. He concentrated on trying to stop the bleeding and not focus on the sucking gurgled sounds escaping Fraser’s slack open mouth.

"I'm here buddy, I got you," Ray gathered Fraser's shivering body in his arms, keeping his hand on the hole. He whipped off his sodden jacket one-handed and pressed it against the wound as tightly as he could in an attempt to staunch the flow. He cradled Fraser in his lap, his damp head on his chest and clung to him desperately feeling Fraser's fingers curling into his t-shirt.

Nothing else mattered other than keeping Fraser from succumbing to shock until help arrived. He wrapped his free arm around his partner and rubbed his body in order to warm him up, trying not to notice the sickening slick warmth between his fingers holding his jacket nor the bloody puddle growing beneath him. "I got you," he breathed, eyes closing with overwhelming terror as he held the trembling Mountie tightly. Trembling meant he was alive, still alive.

He brushed back dark damp curls from Fraser's forehead. His eyes fixed on Fraser's face as those piercing blue eyes flitted unfocused, afraid, staring at nothing as shock wracked his body. "Hey, hey, stay with me," Ray stroked Fraser's cheek and hair when his eyes began to drift closed, prompting him to finally focus on Ray's face. "You gotta stay awake." 

"...Ray… m'tired…hurts..." Fraser wheezed painfully against Ray's chest, his voice thin and raw. His ragged struggling breath was warm against Ray’s wet clothes and skin.

"I know, I know, buddy, help's on the way, you just got to hang on for me, Ben, okay?"

"...for you…" 

"Yeah, Ben, for me," Ray repeated, willing his voice not to shake as he pressed a kiss to the wet mess of dark hair. "You're going to be alright, I got you, Ben. I got you."

A weak smile spread across Fraser's blue-tinged lips, flashing that crooked tooth of his, "You… you keep...calling me Ben…" 

Ray couldn't help the strangled laugh escaping his throat at that. It obviously meant more than Fraser had let on. "Yeah, I do, and I'll keep calling you it just so long as you stay awake. You hear me?"

A trembling hand reached up and cold shaky fingers brushed so lightly over Ray's jaw it could have been called a caress. "I like… the way it sounds…When… you say it…" 

"Yeah?" Ray pressed Fraser's hand to his cheek, covering it with his own, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. "Good, that's good Ben, greatness, then I'll keep saying it, as often as you need me to."

"Ray!" Welsh hollered down from the dock as back up arrived, Diefenbaker barking madly at his side before he leaped towards them. 

Looking up, Ray gave a wave. "I got him! He's been stabbed, he needs a hospital now!" 

"We're coming to you, hang on!" 

Ray just nodded and his attention returned to Fraser when the man went suddenly still in his arms, his hand slipping back down to Ray's chest. "Frase? Ben?"

Diefenbaker whined piteously and kept trying to nose and lick at Fraser’s face, forcing Ray to push him away when Fraser stopped gasping. That sent a wave of dread through Ray’s whole body. 

"...m'sorry, Ray…" 

The words were so softly spoken that Ray barely heard them as he shifted to try and shake Fraser back into consciousness. His hand lightly slapped the cooling skin of his cheek. Fraser's breathing was becoming increasingly shallow and strained, catching horribly in his throat with every passing second as his strength faded. 

"No, Ben, don't give up, hang on. Please hang on," Ray pleaded, holding Fraser tighter, tears slipping over his cheeks. He barely registered Dief licking at his cheeks urgently before lying beside Fraser with a whine, then letting out a haunting howl. 

Ray had no idea how long he sat there with Fraser in his arms, the wolf nosing him worriedly as he just babbled about anything and everything to get him to wake up again. Probably not as long as it felt. He resisted when Lieutenant Welsh and Agent Jones pulled him free and held him back so the EMTs could deal with his partner. 

"He has a punctured lung, he can't breathe!" he heard himself yell. He felt no shame as he wept, his bloodstained hands running through his hair and over his face while he watched the EMTs perform CPR to try to keep Fraser, Ben - who looked so deathly pale - alive before whisking him off to the ambulance.

"I'm going with him!" he hollered, daring anybody to argue with him. He sprinted to the ambulance and climbed inside, the wolf hot on his heels.

“Uh, the dog can’t--”

“--the dog is!” Ray snarled aggressively. Diefenbaker, to his credit, lay under Ray’s legs, keeping himself out of the way. The EMTs, sensing the battle already lost, concentrated on their patient instead. 

Ray grabbed Fraser’s hand holding on tightly, ignoring the looks of concern from the EMTs as they worked around him. He was unable to take his eyes off his partner as they fought to keep him alive. "Fight, Ben," he whispered. "Please, stay with me." 

****

“Well, you’re in a mighty pickle, son.” 

“Dad?” Fraser sat up, frowning at finding himself lying in a snowfield without the expected icy wetness soaking through the wool of his Serge. Not again. "Am I...?"

“You really should stop making a habit of dropping in without warning.” Bob Fraser offered a hand to his son with an amused smile. 

“Oh well, I’ll be sure to call ahead next time I plan on dying.” 

Robert Fraser's eyes softened and his mouth turned down sadly. “Might not get that chance, Benton.” 

Fraser met his father’s steady gaze and his voice wavered when he repeated his question. “Am I?”

“Not yet.”

“But...I am… that is to say, I'm dying?”

“Technically you were dead,” Robert declared cheerfully. “Twice. Ever the overachiever I suppose.”

“And this pleases you?” Fraser asked indignantly. 

“Well, of course not, son. I don’t even have grandchildren yet. You’re in the prime of your life, why would I wish you dead?”

Rubbing his eyebrow repeatedly, Fraser shrugged. “Oh please, ‘don’t have grandchildren’. I’ll have you know, Dad, that there’s much more to life than having offspring to please one’s father, who just so happens to be dead.” 

“No need to sulk."

“I’m not sulking,” Fraser retorted almost petulantly. “I don't sulk." He took a deep breath.

"A father simply wants what’s best for his son,” Robert continued as if he hadn’t heard him.

"So you know what’s best for me now, is that why I’m here?” he snapped, frustration getting the better of him.

Robert smiled and started walking across the snowfield, gesturing for Fraser to follow. “Benton, being dead has taught me a few things about being a father.”

“At least it wasn’t all for nothing,” Fraser replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Robert Fraser ignored his son’s belligerent response. “For one, it taught me that being a father doesn’t mean you know everything about what’s best for your children. Oh, come on now, Benton, don’t look at me like that. An old dog can learn new tricks.” 

Fraser closed his gobsmacked mouth and wisely said nothing. 

“Two, it gives you a better perspective to see  _ who _ is good for your only son." He gave Fraser a shrewd glance. "Even if it’s going to be a hard road.”

“What are you blithering on about?” 

“The Yank, son.”

“His name is Ray.”

“He’s a good man.”

Fraser stopped in his tracks, his face softened and dropped his gaze. “He is,” he replied quietly. “The best man I know.” 

Robert smiled warmly and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re going to have to make some difficult choices, son. That’s what you will be choosing to go back to.”

"And...and you'd be alright with that choice?"

Giving his son a one-shoulder shrug, Robert raised an eyebrow. "Far be it for me to question a man's choices, especially when it comes to those of the heart and you have always been your own man, son."

Fraser blinked a few times, hearing the pride in his father's words. "I...thank you, Dad."

"Don't think it gets you off the hook for grandchildren," Robert added firmly. "But it won't be easy, Benton. You sure this is what you want? Relationships are hard enough without being...you know..."

Fraser nodded mutely, knowing he would choose Ray every time. Even if it led to his heart getting broken in the long run. He had to try.

“Right, well, if you trust your heart,” Robert placed a hand over Fraser’s chest, “trust your instincts, trust your partner, then a partnership can weather any storm, Benton. Even death.” 

Meeting his father’s gaze, knowing how his mother’s death had nearly killed him, Fraser opened his mouth to say something but words didn’t feel like enough. 

“It’s alright to be afraid, son, but don’t make my mistake. Don’t wait until you’re dead to let those you love know that you love them.” Robert smiled wistfully. “Remember what I said? Sometimes you just have to--”

“--leap.” Fraser smiled plaintively at his father. “Sometimes you just have to leap.” 

"Or let yourself be pushed." Raising his eyebrows Robert smiled warmly at his only son. He then placed his hands on his chest and nodded. "Time's up, Benton."

"Wait, what?" 

"You can thank me later."

"Dad!" Fraser's eyes widened in surprise and not a little bit of fear when his father gave him a hard shove, hard enough to force the air out of his body. His hand reached up, grabbing at empty air and he felt himself falling backward. The world rushed away from him, surrounding him in darkness as he sank like a stone through water.

****

Ray hugged the blanket around him tightly and paced the hospital waiting room unable to shake the image of Fraser when he'd pulled him out of the water. Unresponsive, white as a sheet, blue at the edges. Not breathing. Dead. 

Huey and Dewey arrived carrying a bag of clothes for him at the lieutenant's request. "How is he?"

Ray shook his head. "In surgery, they won't tell me anything yet." He fidgeted with the blanket before shrugging it off in frustration. 

"You should change," Dewey suggested. "You're starting to scare people."

"You should fuck off," Ray growled menacingly. 

"Ray, you're covered in blood, a change of clothes will do you good." Huey placed a hand on his shoulder and steered the pacing, agitated Ray towards the men's room so he could change. Ray knew that Huey understood what it was like to lose a partner, that he knew that pain all too well. 

"Fraser's going to be alright, Ray, he's like Superman, he can't die," Huey tried to soothe as they got him into a cubicle and waited for him to change.

"That's fucking stupid," Ray growled out, not even bothering to shut the door as he fought with his still wet jeans. "Superman could be killed by that uh… kryp...krypto… site.." he rubbed his face roughly wiping away his tears, gingerly pulling the sweater over his head when his ribs protested with extreme prejudice at the movement. 

"Kryptonite?"

"Yeah, that. But the thing is, uh…what nobody, including him, seems to get, is that ah... Constable Benton Fraser RCM-fucking-P is not a superhero, he can die. Was  _ dead _ when I pulled him out…he was fucking dead..." His voice was thick and he choked back a sob, swallowing hard, burying his head in his hands and tugging at his hair. 

"Shit," Dewey breathed. "Dead?"

"Got him breathing, only for him to go into fucking shock, there was so much blood," he said, his eyes finally looking down at his bloodied hands. He made his way to a sink and looked up into the mirror and balked. His skin was stained with Ben's blood, it was even in his hair. He scrubbed and rinsed at his face frantically, bile rising up in his throat. 

It was too much, too much. Ray lost it and punched the wall several times, barely registering his bloody knuckles and the pain in his side screaming for his attention. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, "he's the most annoying, stubborn man on the fucking planet and if he gives up now I'm… I'll fucking bring him back and kick him in the fucking head!" 

"He's going to be okay," Huey reassured. "Like you said, he's too stubborn to die. He's strong, you got to him in time, he'll be okay. He's Fraser, he's always okay." 

Ray nodded silently, sinking down to the floor, head against the cool tiles, deflated. His partner shouldn't have been there in the first place, should never have been put in that position. He wished he could smoke right then and took to chewing a trembling fingernail instead, imagining he could hear Fraser chiding him for it. 

Letting Huey help him to his feet, he didn't resist when they guided him back to the waiting room, planted him in a seat, and thrust a coffee in his trembling hands. Ray just sat, staring blankly into space, one hand wrapped around his coffee, the other buried in the scruff of fur at Diefenbaker's neck. The wolf whined and laid a paw on his leg as Ray contemplated his life without Benton Fraser. 

Fraser was stubborn, except the part where he wasn't, not really, not when it came to his own welfare. What if he decided there wasn't anything to live for after what he'd been through? A lesser man might decide to just call it quits, shuffle off this mortal coil. 

Nonetheless, this was Benton Fraser, he had never let go of anything, even when Ray had thought he should (though he was one to talk). It had brought them to blows, almost fracturing their partnership in two. Fraser, for as long as Ray had known him, which was now that he thought about it, only a measly eighteen months give or take, had never given up on anything nor anyone. Not even Ray. Himself though? Ray couldn't remember the last time Fraser had pursued anything for himself, put his own welfare over others. Not one damn time. That scared him. He needed Fraser to fight, to want to survive. To live.

Ray sucked in a shaky breath, reminding himself to breathe. He couldn't even begin to imagine life without Fraser, didn't want to. He was insufferable, a know-it-all, the seemingly indestructible Mountie he'd inherited when he'd taken this undercover gig as Ray Vecchio. Who the fuck worked with a Mountie anyway? A Mountie who could leap off buildings, stand in front of a loaded gun and talk the shooter into turning themselves in. The fucking Mountie who ran around Chicago in that shoot-me-dead red serge, helping old ladies cross the street and kittens out of trees. The very same Mountie who had literally turned Ray's life upside down in wildly bizarre and dangerous ways since the moment they'd met. In ways, Ray didn't even fully understand yet and drove him crazier than anybody he'd ever met, including his ex-wife Stella. 

He was also the best partner and friend that Ray had ever had. Fraser made him be a better human, made him want to be better, want to live up to the admiration he saw in Ben's eyes whenever he looked at him. Ray wanted nothing more than to make Ben smile for him, at him, because of him. 

Ray knew then that he loved him. He was in love with him. More than he thought himself capable of again. A sob escaped him when he thought that he may have lost the chance to tell him and he covered his face with a trembling hand. Ray didn't know who he was without Fraser, wasn't ready to find out. He certainly didn't want to go back to life before the Mountie, before Fraser, before Ben. 

"Detective Vecchio?" 

Ray stood up and stared at the nurse. "Yeah, that's me."

"You're listed as next of kin for," she looked at the chart, "a Benton Fraser."

Eyes widening, Ray was taken aback by that revelation. He'd had no idea, Fraser had never said anything. It must have been from when the first Ray Vecchio was still around. "Since when," he choked out. 

The nurse flipped a page. "Looks like he listed you six months ago when he was in for a check up on his back."

"Right. Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck. "How is he?"

"He's out of surgery. The doctor will be along shortly to tell you more."

"Uh, can I see him? I need to see him." 

"When he’s taken to his room--"

"--Please." 

Hearing the desperation in his tone, the nurse took pity on him. "Detective, Mr. Fraser is still in recovery. You’ll get to see him when he’s moved to a room. The Doctor will see you soon."

“Constable.”

The nurse gave him a quizzical look. 

“It’s Constable Fraser,” he muttered sullenly, not entirely sure why he felt it was important. 

“Alright, perhaps you should go home, Detective, we can call--”

“--I’m staying.” 

Giving him a sympathetic nod, she left him alone and Ray sank back down into a seat, deflated and suddenly exhausted. 

****

A hand on his shoulder jolted him upright. Ray didn’t remember falling asleep.

“Sorry, it is Detective Vecchio right?” 

Ray rubbed his face and nodded. “Yeah, uh, yeah.”

“I’m Doctor Sara Tan, I operated on Constable Fraser.”

“Oh, how is he?” he asked weakly. 

“He’s stable. We have him in ICU for the moment due to the seriousness of his injuries.” 

“Can I...I’d like to see him.” 

“For a few moments, come with me.” 

Ray followed her into the ward and to a private room at the end of the corridor. He stepped inside and just stared at the sight of his usually immovable partner prone on the hospital bed, connected to a number of machines that beeped. His body was covered with tubes and a ventilator that was breathing for him and Ray covered his mouth. 

Dr. Tan was explaining something, her words washing over him as he stared, moving unconsciously to Fraser's bedside, taking his limp hand in his own. He let out a grunt of acknowledgment, eyes never straying from Fraser's face. “Could I uh, have a minute?” he asked, looking up at the Doctor. 

She hesitated and then gave him a small nod. “Five minutes, I’ll be right back.”

Grateful, Ray looked back down at his partner. "I'm so sorry, Ben," he whispered, squeezing his hand. "I should've got there sooner. Should've stopped you from taking the damn job. Even if you'd have hated me, it would be better than you lying here like this." He pulled a chair closer and sat down heavily, his hand never leaving Fraser's. Leaning closer to the bed, he reached up and petted Fraser's hair, fingers brushing over the unkempt curls. "There's so much we have to talk about, Ben, so you have to pull through this you hear me?" 

When Dr. Tan returned, Ray was just sitting holding Fraser’s hand on the bed. "So how bad is it?" 

"He had a collapsed lung, two cracked ribs, two stab wounds in his back, and one deep laceration on his leg. There were also a number of contusions, with some internal bleeding indicative of a severe beating.”

“What?” 

“Somebody used him as a punching bag,” the doctor reiterated grimly.

Ray thought he was going to be sick and dropped into his chair. It had to have been Taylor. "When they grabbed him, he must've…then..." he whispered almost to himself. Anger bubbled up inside him as he recalled hearing Fraser calling out his name before Ray had gone down for the count. "I'll fucking kill the bastard," he growled out, his hands squeezing Benton's hand.

"He’s made it this far, Detective. There shouldn’t be any lasting damage," the Doctor continued gently. Coming to stand beside Ray she placed an understanding hand on his shoulder. "I'm just going to check his readings."

Ray just watched as she busied herself checking his partner, shining a light into his eyes, writing a couple of notes on his chart. She moved around Ray rather than forcing him to let go of Benton's hand. He was silently grateful for that, he didn't think he could let go right then. He looked up at her blankly when she started speaking again.

"He lost a lot of blood and has suffered acute exposure. There was mention that he had fallen into the river or the lake?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah, he, uh, he drowned, then he um... went into shock…and the EMTs had to do CPR."

"Ah, that explains it then."

"Explains what?" 

"The bruising on his chest. He's also got a fever and has been exposed to any number of toxic substances. We had to put him in a medical coma and we're pumping him with antibiotics to fight off infection. It caught us by surprise in the surgery, he flatlined twice, but he's strong."

Ray felt like all the blood had suddenly rushed out of his body and he went light-headed.

"He'll be kept here under observation until his fever goes down and then we'll bring him out of it slowly. He'll be in considerable pain for a while and may suffer some shortness of breath, but that too should ease in time. I'll recommend he kept on desk duty for at least a couple of weeks following his release. Does he have somebody to stay with?" 

"Me, he can stay with me,” Ray responded without hesitation. “So…you're saying he's going to be okay?"

"Barring any further complications, in time, with proper rest and care, yes. I presume you'll be the one to take care of him when he leaves the hospital?"

Ray was nodding before he could form the words. "Yeah, there's nobody else." And wasn’t that the most tragic thing in the fucking world? Benton Fraser who practically killed himself in the service of others had nobody to take care of him. It was all wrong to Ray. Benton, Ben deserved more than to be alone, deserved more than Ray, but that would never make Ray leave. He was selfish like that. He never thought he would feel for another this way after his divorce, but he would hold on to whatever this was, whatever this could be until there was no longer breath in his body. 

"Good, he'll need to be monitored to make sure there aren't any secondary infections."

"I can do that," Ray mumbled, looking back down at his partner. 

"I'll give you a little more time, but then you have to leave. You should try to get some rest, Detective. We'll call you when he’s been moved to a room. It'll be a couple of days yet."

Ray just nodded absently, his thumb rubbing gently over Ben's knuckles. He was going to be okay, he was alive. That's all that mattered right now. Everything else could wait.

****

Fraser had woken up in the dark and in a brief moment of panic had thought he'd actually died. That was until the pain registered. He hurt in places he didn't even know he had. It even hurt to breathe. Being dead couldn't possibly hurt that much. 

Then he'd seen Ray passed out in the chair beside his bed and almost sobbed with relief. He was alive and Ray was alright. Not dead, thank god, not dead. He'd looked like he hadn't slept in days though. The light from the window cast a long shadow on his slack face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and the rough, too long stubble on his chin. He'd opened his mouth to say his name, to tell him to go home, everything was okay, but all that had escaped his mouth was a garbled whimper. 

Ray had reacted as though electrocuted. He'd moved to Fraser's bedside in an instant and pressed the call button. His hand had immediately clutched at Fraser's. Fraser had held on tightly with all the strength he could muster, his eyes never leaving Ray's.

That had been two weeks ago. 

Now when he sat up, it didn't quite feel like his lungs were going to explode. It was still somewhat difficult and dear lord, painful to breathe, but that was partly due to the bruising on his chest and rib cage. He'd been shocked to learn how close he'd come to actually dying for good. Ray had saved his life and despite not removing himself from Fraser's side for most of the two weeks, they hadn't addressed it. 

In fact they'd barely talked about anything. Not that, not the case, and certainly not whatever it was that was happening between them. There had always been a visitor or a nurse or a check-up or Fraser had just been unable to stay awake thanks to the painkillers. It had been beyond infuriating. 

Agent Jones had filled him in on some of the case details, but Ray for all of his concern and constant presence at his bedside had been uncharacteristically quiet and pensive. Ray had dismissed Fraser's concern citing he just didn't like hospitals, but Fraser remained unconvinced. All he could think and subsequently worry about was that Ray was having second thoughts about them and about him. 

Now though, he was finally being released. He'd convinced Ray to go home for a couple of nights to get some rest, help the FBI close the case, to walk Dief, and to look less like a homeless person. Ray had laughed at that and had reluctantly agreed after much protesting. 

Slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Fraser turned his head slightly when he heard a knock at the door. "Ray." He smiled, glad to see his partner. "You're early."

"I'm springing you from this joint. You complaining?" Ray grinned as he entered the room and closed the door. "Besides, have to get you out of here before Frannie arrives. She's been freaking out. You missed your birthday and she had this whole thing planned, now she wants to make it extra special. Pretty sure she's planning on grabbing you when you get released."

"Oh, dear." 

"Yeah, pitter-patter, Fraser." Ray laughed. "Unless you want Frannie to give you an extra special birthday present?" He winked suggestively.

"Not in the least. I'm ready to leave." Fraser replied eagerly. He pushed off the bed and almost fell on his face when his legs gave way. Ray was in front of him straight away, strong arms holding him up. 

"Whoa, take it easy," Ray gently eased him back to lean on the bed. "I brought you some clothes." He placed them on the bed and stepped back, giving Fraser some room. 

"Thank you, Ray." Fraser immediately started getting changed, smirking fondly when Ray actually turned his back to give him some privacy. "You mentioned you were going to be talking to the FBI. Is the case closed?"

"Yeah, the FBI found Meredith two nights ago," Ray stole a glance over his shoulder. "The Mckinleys got to her first. It was not a pretty sight. Found out that she’d had a brother. He was kidnapped by the mob at a college party a while back. Seemed she made it her mission to take them down, no matter who she killed along the way.”

Fraser hummed softly with a frown. “What a tragic waste. She told me, I tried to tell her revenge wasn’t the answer. Some part of me wonders if I should have tried harder.” 

“Not your fault, Frase. Some people do what they gotta do. You weren’t going to stop her, she’d been working with the Mckinleys for years. It was her whole life to bring them down, her losing her brother doesn’t excuse what she did, what she did to you.” He eyed Fraser with concern and sighed. “Once Joseph woke up, he spilled his guts for a deal. They raided the Mckinleys’ last night. It's done, they got ‘em. So Meredith got what she wanted in the end."

"That is gratifying news at least." Fraser felt relief wash through him. "And the victims?" 

"Counselling and reuniting with their families. One of ‘em, Joshua, he asked after you, said he wanted to thank you for saving his life. You uh…" Ray turned and met Fraser's eyes. "You did good, Frase, they couldn't have done it without your help. You saved those people," he rubbed his hair awkwardly. "You were right." 

Holding Ray's gaze, Fraser licked his lower lip. "Was that hard to say?" he teased gently, trying to ease the unspoken tension in the room. 

Ray huffed a laugh and ducked his head looking at the floor, his thumbs hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. "You've no idea."

Fraser frowned and shifted awkwardly. He wanted to close the gap that had manifested between them and took a hesitant step forward. "Ray, I feel I must ask, are we, are you…do you regret what happened...um…between us?"

Ray's head snapped up, his eyes bright and wide. "No! Hell no!" He frowned. "What's made you think that?"

Tugging at his ear and ducking his own head, Fraser couldn't meet Ray's eyes. He felt needy, insecure like it had all somehow been a figment of his imagination and he had a very large hole in his bag of marbles. "It's just, you haven't, we haven't talked about it, at all since I regained consciousness. I was starting to," he let out a nervous laugh, "to think I'd imagined it."

"Oh shit, Ben, no," Ray invaded Ben's space and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He rested his head on his shoulder, burying his nose in the crook of Ben's neck and breathed deeply before he continued. 

Fraser waited, his own arms curling around Ray as he melted into the contact and warmth, his heart beating a mile a minute. He felt Ray's breath hot against his ear as he whispered, causing him to shiver a little. 

"You were dead, Ben. You  _ died _ . I pulled you out and you were blue. I thought that was it, you were D U N done." Ray pulled back a bit to look Ben in the eye. "I have never been so scared in my life. It's just been hard to process, you know…?" 

Fraser could only nod. "I'm sorry, Ray." 

"No, don't, you don't mppff--" Ray's words were cut off by Fraser's lips pressing urgently against his own. 

"I'm so sorry," Fraser murmured against Ray's lips again before kissing him deeply, both his hands coming up to cup Ray's face, one sliding into his hair to hold him closer still as his tongue dove into the warm wetness of Ray's mouth. He tasted of sugar and coffee, bitter, sweet and hot and so very, very Ray. "I thought you'd been killed in the hotel," he gasped against Ray's mouth. He shook his head, "I couldn't bear it." 

Ray held onto him tightly as Fraser kissed him again. It was firm and desperate and he poured everything he felt into it. He moaned softly and clutched at Ray, his fingers curling into his back and burying themselves into the soft spikes of Ray's hair when he felt Ray kissing him back just as intensely. 

Oh, how scared they'd been, how relieved they both were now. They couldn't get enough of each other. To Fraser, it felt like he was drowning in Ray who was wrapped around him tightly as though he was going to disappear.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Ray rested his forehead against Fraser's. Fraser was panting harshly, still wheezing a little from his injuries. "You're breathing kinda hard," Ray chuckled, lightly pressing his lips to Fraser's.

Fraser let out a soft laugh and just squeezed Ray more tightly. "What you do to me, Ray."

"Ben, I'm going to take you home," Ray stated softly. "You're going to let me take care of you--"

"-- there's really no need--"

Ray cut Ben off with a finger to his lips and a raised eyebrow. "You're going to  _ let _ me take care of you and then,  _ then _ we're going to have a long chat about you endangering your life in wildly bizarre ways and how that's a really dumb thing to do when you have so much to lose."

Fraser nodded and looked up, studying Ray's electric blue eyes that seemed to shimmer and dance when he smiled at him. "So much to lose?"

Ray leaned in and kissed Ben so tenderly it wrought a low moan from deep in Fraser’s chest that made Ray bodily shudder all over. "So  _ much _ ," he stressed in a whisper against his lips. 

"Understood." Fraser's face broke into a smile then and he wasn't sure he could ever stop smiling. This was so new and wonderful and he knew it wouldn't always be this easy. Yet, he had been given the chance to try. Ray wanted him in return, and that was so much more than he'd ever dared hope for. When Ray took hold of his hand and pressed his warm, soft lips to his fingers, something in Ben's chest thawed and broke away. 

"C'mon, Ben. Let's go home." 

****

And I will hold, I'll hold onto you

No matter what this world'll throw

It won't shake me loose

I'll reach my hands out in the dark

And wait for yours to interlock

I'll wait for you, I'll wait for you

~Andy Grammer Don't Give Up On Me

**Author's Note:**

> “mange d’la marde” - Means “eat shit” in French Canadian.
> 
> "Mon tabarnak j'vais te décâlisser la yeule, câlice" - I'm gonna beat your fucking face in, you motherfucker.
> 
> "Like the fricken Grasshopper" - reference to an old TV show 'Kung Fu' with David Carradine as a monk who travels around America stopping bad guys by being polite and kicking them in the head with kung fu and whose sensei refers to him as Grasshopper.


End file.
